early thanksgiving

My Southwest Michigan life keeps getting weirder.

Thank God for quiet lakeside neighborhoods late at night, Eigh Anns who get out of bed to listen to your voicemails and call you back, and moons blurred spookily by clouds leaving trails of filmy light on black water.

And kitties who wake you up walking carefully up your back and nuzzling your ear.

And hot strong coffee, and boxes waiting to be packed, and new and wonderful books by Robin McKinley, and soft deep pillows, and dreamless sleep, and unexpected spiritual sustenance, and dreamy Indian summer afternoons wrapping one in peace like the shimmer of heat on the grass. And good songs twining their strains through your head like the touch of a friend. And homemade chai and calm fathers and encouraging mothers and solid sisters and Yankee candles and MacIntosh apples and hints of fall.

Good normal things, little susurrations of joy.