Thankful, Thankful, Thankful

Last updated on: August 2, 2010 at 11:07 pm by Micha Boyett Hohorst

Thankful, Thankful, Thankful 2010-08-02T23:07:29-07:00 Micha Boyett Hohorst

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We’re in the never-ending process of looking for a new apartment. (Thankfully, our time in this one is not quite spent.) And I’m peering into every possible new home aching for one thing (really, two): a washer and a dryer (Not shared! Not requiring correct change!). Yesterday, after walking the courtyard steps (up and down) with August and our laundry load over and over and feeling the bitter rise up my throat, I was reminded that doing the laundry with my two-year-old is kind of fun. If we didn’t have to leave the house, he would never know the joy of stuffing the darks into the front loader. He wouldn’t look forward all week to pushing the one chair in the building’s laundry room up the three washers before us and meticulously pulling quarters out of the Ziploc bag. He wouldn’t have to feel his way into placing each quarter into the slit over and over until he can push the button and hear the machine begin. He loves it! So I’m going to try to be thankful for it (until I can move into a place with its own washer and dryer).
My beautiful, elegant grandmother, “Cotton,” turned 88 years old yesterday. We talked on the phone about how hot it is in Dallas and how she got to eat homemade banana pudding in celebration Sunday afternoon. How many thirty-year-olds can claim all four of her grandparents still living, even as they all near ninety? It’s remarkable. I’m thankful.
Sometimes I look over at my husband, sitting beside me on the couch, laptop resting on his legs the same as mine and I think how good our life is, and how simple.
Today I sang 11 different verses to “Daddy’ll be coming around the corner when he comes!” my new tradition with August as he stares out the window for large chunks of time, hoping to catch a glimpse of his father coming home from work. I had a moment while we were singing when I remembered how Romantic the idea of “work” was to me when I was small and remembering that longing for Dad to arrive, how long the wait can feel, how sweet the reunion.
On Sunday afternoon, while August played on the bed around us, Chris said, in one of his existential moments, “August, where did you come from? Where did you live before you showed up here with us?!” August thought for a minute and answered, with utter sincerity, “Space.” “Space?” Chris asked. “On a rocket.” August said. Well, of course. If you’re going to just arrive on Planet Earth from somewhere, it’s most logical that you would come from space on a rocket. I’m thankful that my child is logical.

I know I say this every week, but come on! Someone out there is thankful for something…and I’d really love to know what it is.

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