Simple Pleasures

Today, for the purposes of this post, is yesterday. I'm at school, sitting in the Great Hall, along with everyone else, pre-schoolers and all. (Yes, my school has a Great Hall. However, my school is not Hogwarts. Our Great Hall smells like Cheez-Its and feet) We're gathered here for the annual Thankful Thoughts ceremony, which we can get away with, because we're a private school. We're all in a circle around yet another circle of garlands, ribbon, and pinecones. In the very center, there's a lit candle in a glass orb. The sky is the same shade of grey that my long-dead cat used to be. The air is throbbing with the threat of snow, but it's a friendly, good-natured threat. All the teachers stand up and make a circle around our little mass of students. The headmistress makes the obligatory incoherent speech given by every principal in every school at every event in the world. Then, each teacher states what they're thankful for this season. Apparently, they were briefed beforehand on the fact that it had to be something school-related. They all give some variation of, "I'm so thankful to be part of this thriving, dynamic community of unique, wonderful students, and I'm thankful for my family at home and my family here. An education here is so full of compassion....and I hope you're all thankful for it too." Then, they randomly select two kids from every grade level to say what they're thankful for. A few preschoolers and kindergarteners score some cuteness points by saying Mommy. As the appreciation wave comes rumbling over the other kids, we hear more and more of love, being loved, the best friends in the world...now these things are all fine and dandy. But frankly, there have been times where I've felt like I didn't have any of those things. There have been times where I've had those things in abundance and not been a good enough person to realize that. And there are times when I just don't want to be weighed down with all those abstractions. Suddenly, the headmistress's hand is on my shoulder. "This is a girl of few words," she's saying, "but only because she's very discerning about them. What she does have to say holds so much meaning for all of us." I raise my eyebrows. She turns to me.
"What are you thankful for, dear?"
Oh shit. I smile a little. "The sky," I say. Everyone who wasn't staring at me before is staring at me now. People's faces are contorting. Not a good sign. A little second-grader cranes her neck to look at me. She claps her hands, hesitantly. The pre-schoolers, already swayed by peer pressure at this age, join in. A junior who seems to have a thing for me smacks his hands together emphatically. A few teachers shrug, and suddenly the whole room is filled with thunderous applause. Hey. Once in a while, we need to celebrate something anyone, no matter how hungry or attention-starved, can take for granted. Something the whole world can enjoy together.

Happy Thanksgiving, if that's what you're into.