Thankfulness trips most of us now and then but I think I can just about kill it today.

The state of gratitude lies across the international time zone from complaint.  Expressing gratitude involves perceiving a goodness and reacting to that goodness with a certain feeling; and then articulating that feeling in words that the one responsible for the goodness can appreciate.

“Thank you” seems trite to me but to another, only that precise two-word phrase suffices to convey the expected sentiment for a kindness.

Today I awakened feeling particularly grateful for a handful of people whose identity any regular reader of this blog current on its entries will predict.  Catherine Kenyon, for house-sitting while I enjoyed the sand dunes; Jenny Rosen, for being a most commodious traveling companion and Rock Star driver; Tami Cline, for her role as Hostess With The Mostest in her lovely Colorado Springs Home.  But add these less obvious recipients of my appreciation: A wiry man in the kitchen at The Hilltop Inn  & Suites for the silkiest scrambled eggs I’ve ever tasted; a couple from Oklahoma for hauling me from the waters of the Medano Creek; and an unknown Springfield, Missouri resident for talking to me about Joe’s BBQ and the Royals while standing in a bookstore in Boulder.

To each of them:

Thank you; I appreciate your contribution to My Awesome Memorial Day Weekend Adventure.

Today I feel the wrench in my shoulders from my hilarious tumble into the cool waters which run through the Great Sand Dune National Park to join the Rio Grande.  When I move, searing pain alerts me to the swelling in my knees from the mile walk through the park and a similar trek to see every corner of The Broadmoor, including its Hallway of Fame and the breathtaking view from the bridge.

My Memorial Day get-away to Colorado could only have been more perfect if the Boulder Falls had been open.  I’m home.  I’m moving slowly and won’t even hint at when my office should expect me.  I still have to haul my suitcase into the house and divest the car of empty water bottles.  But I’m not complaining.

It’s the thirty-first day of the twenty-ninth month of My Year Without Complaining.  Life continues.


The condos at The Broadmoor.


My hostess in Colorado Springs, Tami Cline, in front of one section of The Broadmoor’s Hall of Fame, photos of famous people who have stayed in its hotel or played one of its golf courses.



Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *