A few nights ago, on the eve of Thanksgiving, I found myself sitting at my computer pondering a blank screen. I thought maybe it would be an appropriate time to write a post about all the things I’m thankful for. The thing is, I spend an awful lot of time on this blog going on and on about how awesome my life is. It’s not that I couldn’t think of anything that I was thankful for, I just couldn’t think of anything that hadn’t been written about before. And honestly, I just wasn’t in the writing mood. I was sitting with my fingers hovering over the keyboard not because I wanted to write, but because I felt that I needed to write. Immediately I realized the obligation in my intentions and eventually I abandoned the post for this reason.
The next day I awoke early to a very bright sun streaming into my room through the windows, shining directly onto my face. Because of my east-facing bedroom, this happens every morning, so usually I close the blinds before going to sleep. But since I had been back in Florida the weather had been cloudy and so I had yet to have this problem and had forgotten my old blind-closing routine. I opened my eyes groggily, only to be blinded by the sun and her rays. I put a pillow over my head and attempted to fall back asleep. My cat stuck her nose under the blankets and let out a short meow. “It’s time to get up!” she practically screamed. Feeling rebellious, I shot out of bed for no reason other than to close the curtains, only to catch a glimpse of the view outside.
My parents’ house is situated on the beautiful Weeki Wachee river. The river is spring-fed and because of this stays a crisp and clear 72 degrees year-round. On the rare morning where the temperature falls below 72, the water steams. Although the sun was out for the first time since I’d been home, the air was the coolest it had been in a long time, and a rich layer of heavy steam was rising from the river below. The vapors blew gently in my direction, as if to say ‘hello tired lady, won’t you come visit me?‘ How could I say no?
I put on my shoes and a sweater and made it halfway down the stairs before I turned around to retrieve my camera. There was a time when I took the Weeki Wachee for granted, but now that I spend so much of the year so far away, I’ve learned to treasure our sweet moments together.
I found a seat in the warmth of the sun and closed my eyes. Although I had been home several days already, I had yet to actually make the short walk down to my river. When the clouds didn’t deter me the people did. It was Thanksgiving week and everyone was on the river. But it was too early for boaters now. The river was all mine that morning.
After spending so much time in the desert, the loudness of Florida always astounds me. Birds, dozens of them, were chattering away in their different tones and tunes. A light breeze moved the green that existed on a scale so much brighter than what I have grown accustomed to out west. The leaves rustled while the occasional fish splashed the surface of the crystal clear water. The steam rose until it disappeared into the morning.
I felt calm, at peace, lucky.
It was Thanksgiving day, after all.