November 2021

It’s been a wild and crazy year, hasn’t it? Tucked within the daily onslaught of Covid-19 news and political jargon, real life surfaced and brought reasons to smile, and to cry sometimes.  We’ll soon flip the calendar to a new year. A year with a few hundred days of opportunities to find joy in our daily real life. November is a good time to reflect on the year behind us before time gets lost in the hustle and bustle of Christmas Season. November is a perfect time to Give Thanks, isn’t it?

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After the Covid lockdown and months without seeing our family, my husband and I slowly ventured into the outside world. Our daughter-in-law and grandchildren came to spend a few days with us in early May. Springtime in these old mountains along the New River is a magical time of year. Every breeze carries the fragrance of fruit blossoms mixed with the earthy scent of moss and hardwoods. A surprise seems to lie in wait behind every tree, or hide in the rock beds of sparkling mountains streams, or soar aloft in the turquoise sky. Our grandchildren usually spot a deer or two hiding in the grove of trees near the house. It’s a great day when they pluck a crawdad from the stream at the edge of our property and a perfect day when an eagle soars over the river in search of its dinner. That day in May with our grandchildren was a perfect day in every way. 

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After a day of mountain adventures, our grandson Sam sat next to me and asked, “Grandma, how do you know what to write about?” I had to think about his question for a minute or two.

 

“Remember the deer you spotted earlier?” I asked.

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“Uhm huh.” He nodded.

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“Try to remember how you felt when you first saw it. Think about the things you noticed. Its eyes, the movement of its ears, its face. How did it react when it saw you? Then add the details of your surroundings, and what was on your mind before the deer came into view. When you have put those images into words, you’ll have a story.”

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His eyes lit up. “Ah, I see. Grandma, can I borrow a piece of notebook paper?”

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He filled the paper with his story but was shy about sharing it. I understand being shy, so I didn’t pry. 

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The kids visited us a few weeks ago. October in these old mountains is a magical time, too. An explosion of golds, reds, oranges, and yellows filled the mountainsides that overlook the rushing waters of the New River. I discovered that Sam now carries a small notebook with him most of the time. After we had cleared the dinner dishes from the table one evening, Sam sat at the table and intently wrote in his notebook. I watched his eyes scan what he had written before he tugged the page from the book and positioned it in the middle of my placemat. He then came and sat beside me. 

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“Grandma, I’m taking a creative writing class at school. I wrote something for you.”

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I asked for his permission to post it on my website. He agreed. I’m glad his shyness is fading.

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Life’s most precious gifts are gifts from the heart, aren’t they? I treasure Sam’s gift of thoughtful words. May this month of Thanksgiving allow you time to reflect on the gifts tucked within your daily real life.