on gratefulness

November seems to be doing as November does, making this Thanksgiving, as in years past, a bittersweet one. My oldest kitty is likely in her final days after 18 long years in which she's been my ride or die. We have many cats, and they are all unique in their own way, but Isabel (aka Bella)  one was one of the OGs--one of a pair of two flea-ridden and tiny ginger rescues given to me by a friend. While her sibling Zoe only lived to be 11, Bella has been a constant since I was still in my 30s. She's been a little more senile and stumbly in her steps for a couple days, and seems to be intent on sleeping when she's not wandering (I call her "the enforcer" since for years, she does daily laps around the apartment.)  Having lost senior cats before, both my own and others, I recognize the signs. So I am trying to keep her comfortable--giving her treats and soft places to lay and letting time do as time does. 

Since we are keeping a close eye and want to be around for her, we canceled our plans to stay out in Rockford a few days for the holiday and will be heading to Wisconsin for the Bowen family Thanksgiving and then coming back to the city right afterwards. Yesterday, we had Friendsgiving with J's mom and some of his friends, which he cooked to perfection. Today, we are mostly staying close to home and eating our way tonight through prolific leftovers, so I plan nevertheless to be 90% composed stuffing by Friday.

Of course, any holiday, particularly these family-centered ones leave me a little more melancholy than they used to. Every holiday is marked by the missing. If you don't live in the same city, most of your normal life goes on about much as it did before, but the trips home and the usual holidays you would have spent in their company are always dimmed significantly--something that only gets worse as you get older and more seats are suddenly opened at the table. With many aunts and cousins with fairly regular gatherings, you notice it more, especially once you've lost your parents. 

I've always said that my contentment and happiness seems most precarious when things are going right. This past year has not been perfect, but nevertheless filled with wonderful things that under normal baseline circumstances (like not democracy and decency not in daily free-fall every time you scroll the socials or look at the news). Weddings and new writing projects and poetry things. I've been adjusting my freelance work so its not strangling me quite so much as it was a year ago, leaving a bit more time for other kinds of more creative work I've wanted to get to since leaving the full-time grind. 

Really, so much to be grateful for that it makes me so much more anxious than harder times. Like the next shoe will drop. I've been mentally preparing in ways, since I know these cats won't live forever and I likely have several more sad days to endure over the next decade or more. But at the same time, happy that got to be part of my life as long as they have.     

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