Grateful

A soft grey rain has started falling on the Pacific coast this afternoon after Thanksgiving, and I sit in my little beach house with my family and a warm fire, and think about the texture of my life.
Yesterday we feasted on roasted crab - not turkey - and an array of sides that were perfect, including perfect potatoes, and a custom stuffing with leeks and fennel.  We drank champagne, we talked, had pumpkin creme brulee for dessert, and ultimately washed a lot of dishes.  Various chapters of my life were present, including the man (newly married) I lived with for 25 years and who is the father of my beautiful daughters.  We seem to be able to thread ourselves together beautifully, occasionally even talking about the past, laughing often at our unreliable memory! The day was sparkling and sunny with a calm ocean out there in the distance. A small group of us walked on the beach earlier in the day and felt gratitude that we had all this beauty right in front of us.
The conversations ranged from how the perfect scalloped potato dish came out to dealing with the onset of breast cancer in a way that is not invasive.  A granddaughter just home from college showed up in a bright red dress over funky pants, perfectly made up dark eyes, and a bit of a reticence coming from having lived recently in a very different culture.  But it filled our hearts with happiness to have her again in our midst, and soon the edges smoothed out and she eased back into her youthful loving character.  Late that night she and her sister curled up together on a small couch in the living room to sleep the night away together, curved against one another like slim graceful spoons.  This morning I took a picture of the two dead to the world and felt a swelling of gratitude in my heart for my family, even though there are certainly times that I feel on the periphery of their world.  That's what happens when you get older, right?  You must find peace in standing on the fringe.
I want to mention some things I am grateful for:  fresh caught crab, the roaring ocean, the egrets in the creek, my cats, JS Bach and Billie Holliday, my beautiful daughters and grandchildren, Caesar salad, and artichokes and brussels sprouts, my fledgling book project, a warm fireplace, a glass of Pinot Noir, the falling rain, the Buddhas, elephants, and pelicans, and salmon, lavender, olive oil, garlic, and good sour french bread, my friends, a pair of eyes that really sees me, the residents at Zen Hospice, my Buddhist teachers, a great novel like Anna Karenina or  The Goldfinch, my mother's paintings, a brain that is still lively, my writing group, the movie "Casablanca" and "You Can't Take it With You," my Merrell shoes, my curly hair, a good pair of glasses, my two unique little houses, my Mini Cooper, and my open heart.  There :  a small celebration of my good fortune in this fragile life...
I miss my cats, but try not to fret for their happiness.  I simply cannot put into their consciousness the mental complications that live in my own.  They are at my other home alone, but I am sure they are not spending all their hours fretting or missing me.  They move to their very own rhythm, and when you come into view, they might love you, but when you're gone, you're just gone.  Simple as that.  Sometimes I wish my own process was as uncomplicated.  But then, if it were, would I be able to feel this abundance of gratitude and thankfulness for family that I do?  Question for this moment:  do cats feel gratitude?
Never mind - it is enough that I do.  Completely.  I also wish happiness and wellbeing for all creatures far and wide.  It is remarkable this incarnation we find ourselves in, with such wonders as cracked crab, a roaring ocean, and sleeping grandchildren!