Being grateful for everyday things
When I was growing up, breakfast on most days was cold rice mixed with yogurt, with a tiny piece of pickled mango on the side. On days when I was lucky, it was crispy, golden-brown crepes called dosas, served with spicy coconut chutney. Some days it was a piece of toast slathered with mixed-fruit Kissan jam. But rarely did we have cereal with milk. Cereal was just not a thing where I grew up.
When I moved to America, cereal breakfasts would become one of the first habits I'd adopt from my new homeland. I would become a fan of this kind of breakfast, one you can arrange by simply ripping open a bag over a bowl, and pouring cold milk straight from your fridge. No sweat, no fuss.
Over the years I'd adopt many other habits from America. Taking hot
baths in a bathtub, eating peanut butter in a dozen different ways, saying
"love you" to the people I loved, saying hello to strangers on the street,
doing weekly instead of daily grocery runs...things I didn't use to do back
home and now suddenly appearing as natural as sleeping under the stars. Of
course I didn't adopt many other things in my new world: my husband and I
still share a single car, though we live in a house with a two-car garage
in a leafy suburb, part of the famous American dream. I didn't adopt the
tradition of hosting a Christmas tree at home, though we adopted taking
time off to reflect and recharge over Christmas. I didn't adopt the habit
of the almost religious consumerism right after Thanksgiving, though we adopted Thanksgiving as a tradition.
In previous years, I had spent Thanksgiving days baking pies using recipes
found online, making tofu casseroles, and vacuuming the house just before
folks arrived. I had spent evenings huddled around tables with friends and
(sometimes) family, the sound of clattering plates and laughter filling the room.
We had talked about things we were each thankful for that year. I had gone to bed
with a full heart and a fuller stomach.
This year, 2020, was understandably different. We didn't have friends or family with us this year. My father was staying with his little sister in a small town in India. My mother-in-law was in Chennai, hunkering down to let the pandemic and the latest cyclone from the Bay of Bengal pass. My brother and my brother-in-law's families were thousands of miles away, in different cities. Our friends would be staying in their respective homes, spending the evening in a low-key way. This year, as we are doing with everything else - work, kids' school, working out, eating healthy - we would just have to do our best with what we have. And one of "the best of what I had" this year, on Thanksgiving Day, would be my morning run.
Thanksgiving Day 2020 dawned crisp and bright in Seattle. I drove to the parking lot of a trail in Redmond and began my run. On the trail, sallow maple leaves, as large as palm leaves, had created a soft bed for my steps. As I ran, I could hear the squelch of the leaves getting muddled under my feet. "What was I thankful for?" I reflected as I moved forward. 2020 had been hard, no question about it, but there was much in my life that I could count as blessings.
First, what a wonder it was that I could be out there that morning, able to run. So many things had to be going right just for that seemingly mundane thing to happen. My body was cooperating, no niggling aches and pains, no illness I was fighting off. I had the resources to drive a car. I had the privilege to be able to take myself off and spend time on my physical and mental health. I was living in a place where I could run alone without worrying for my safety. Things I had not been able to do at other times in my life, things that many people around the world are unable to do today.
I stopped for a breath and glanced around, taking in the natural beauty. The quiet lake looked like an ironed grey linen sheet. The trees by the lake glowed red, red as apples. I felt lucky to be living in this beautiful place. I continued reflecting. I had not just a job, but a team I loved and believed in. I had a loving husband, and a father I still called for advice on sticky matters.
Most importantly, I still had my breath, in, out, in, out, pooling in front of my face that cold morning. What a wonderful thing it was to be here, to be moving, to be breathing, to be alive. No matter where one is with one's life situation, our breath is something we can all feel thankful for. Just to be alive is a miracle and a gift!
Big things in our lives, like getting married, having a child, getting promoted at work, are easy to get excited about. Everyday things, on the other hand, escape notice until they are not there anymore. All one must do to notice them better, I realized, is to simply stop and imagine a day when they may not be there anymore. When my dad might not be there to call for advice, when I might not be able to drive a car by myself, when I simply might not be able to tie up my shoelaces and go for a run…these everyday things are what make up the stuff of our lives, what truly enrich us.
If anything, 2020 has been the kind of year that has shone stark light on the importance of seemingly small, everyday blessings. It has made me realize, with more urgency, the impermanence of many things we take for granted. I hope that, after the hard year we have just had, we all remember to take the time to cherish these blessings. Not just on Thanksgiving Day, but on every day of the year. Whether it is during a daily run, or when we feel hot water envelop our toes in a bathtub, or as we taste the sweetness of our breakfast cereal, let's ask ourselves what our life would be like if we didn't have that blessing. A grateful life is indeed a happier life.