When I think about this season, purposefully defined by gratitude, I feel a deep unrest. It’s not that I am unthankful, but more that I am fearful of the uncertainty that lies ahead. The remedy for such melancholy is always the same. Get up and get out. Talk to people. Connect. Extend kindness.
When my photographer friends told me about a goose named Gary who lives at the City Docks and has his own facebook page, I thought they were pulling my leg. But today I met Gary and the gentleman who has been feeding and nurturing Gary the goose for the past 6 years. Spending time this close to a goose, trying to focus on a constantly moving target, keeping up conversation with the folks at the docks . . . it felt so good to be lost in the work of making.
When I stopped to take a picture of the morning light on the side of the old house, the one with the ladder perched along its side, the owner came out to talk with me. Instead of chasing me off, she drew me near, embracing my icy cold hands in her own warm ones. She told me the history of the house and how she had climbed that ladder to try to do the painting herself. Older than me, I feared for her safety. She beamed with pride over the work she had accomplished and talked with love about what still needed fixing.
When I am a part, even a very small one, of these places, and when I touch, even in a very small way, one of these people, I am alive. Thankful to be both rooted and raised.
