Sometimes the basics make you feel gratitude. Yesterday I talked to my cousin Peter who only two days ago, had surgery for lung cancer. Yes, that nasty and unwelcome big C is doing its thing on another member of my tribe. “Go fuck yourself,” I say to that disease. “And leave my family alone.” In fact, “LEAVE EVERYBODY ALONE.”
Anyway, Peter, the grandfather of nine, a nurse manager in a hospice, was cute, because he’s always cute, but also because he was on drugs. Drug people are pretty much a good time, because they don’t know what the heck they’re saying. Anyway, he told me he was pretty uncomfortable, and that it was hard for him to breathe, to get a really good breath in. Then he said, “You can say that in your article.” I kind of laughed, thinking this was a drug-induced comment with no basis, but then he continued on, “You know, your article. What’s that thing? What’s the thing you write?” Then it dawned on me what he was talking about. “The gratitude-a-thon?” I said. “Yeah, that. Write that I’m grateful to be breathing.”
And sometimes it’s that simple. That you’re grateful to be breathing. Like my cousin Peter, who I love a million times over. He’s grateful. And so am I.