A tool, this litany of gratitude. Like a key that opens a door or a gate, secures a roller skate, winds up a music box or a clock, starts the car – we don't need to believe a key works or understand how it works; we just need to use it to bring about a result.
A recent 'playing'. Driving down Foul Bay Road from Lansdowne to Oak Bay Avenue.
I am grateful for the sight of those Olympic Mountains far in the distance and the memories of, at times, sensing the snow on their peaks, and for now realizing I can travel through my eyes to a different country without leaving home.
I am graterful for the garage sale signs on telephone poles that I can READ clearly as I drive by, the date and time and address.
I am grateful for the group of wallflowers against a stone wall, their brilliance and their fragrance.
I appreciate being able, on this yet-chilly morning, to have the heater on in the car and the driver's window open for both incar warmth and outcar fresh air and sounds and scents.
I am grateful for brick houses.
I am grateful for seeing, in a driveway, a small, round cat sitting on the roof of a van and bending down to watch as a person loads or unloads something into the vehicle.
I am grateful for the construction at the intersection of Foul Bay and Oak Bay which has traffic in a stop and go pattern with human directives; for the chance to sit and watch a backhoe revealing what is under the road and the bucket lifting and dumping the contents into a truck; for the thought that if the grandkids were in the car they would share my interest.
I am glad to watch and respond to the flagman's (actually a flagwoman's) gestures; graceful and no-nonsense; are they taught how to do these signals or learn them by rote or are they purely instinctive, I wonder, as I am arm-swooshed through the intersection, and drive, gratefully, on.