It is what it is.

I'm going to say what I'm thankful for.

I am super thankful for Anis Mojgani's poem Milos, Edward Sharpe's
song Home, beauty that claws your eyes out, and love that makes your
heart thump against your rib cage like books hitting bedroom walls.
I'm thankful for feelings even though they hurt sometimes.

I'm thankful for having the best of the best of the best of Peace
Corps assignments even if I feel like I've wasted most of my time
here, and especially as I ask, "would it be easier if if it were more
difficult?" This gratefulness includes Dexter, Jesús, Vanessa and
Didier, the most understanding host family you can have. (Yes Dexter
is our dog.)

I'm also thankful for friends who never stop being friends,
influencers who never stop influencing, and artists who never stop
inspiring.

I'm thankful for people who drink enough coffee in the morning to be
able to think straight, vote democrat, and work to improve education
and corporate environmental responsibility.

I'm thankful for all the people who do the dirty work that I can't
stand up to do- the aid workers, the medical staff, the social workers
who have seen it all and keep coming back.

Thank God for friends of friends who make dreams come true. That
doesn't even make sense. You're right. But there are friends of
friends out there who make dreams come true.

I'm thankful for beans and rice and whatever that third thing may be,
because "hunger won't be what kills us."

I'm thankful for the liars, thieves, and misfits who make my projects
happen, cheap in-country text messaging to other PCV's, even the
administrative BS. If my boss is reading this, Im even thankful for
training and gender manuals. I know. Thank you.

I'm thankful for college-ruled spiral-bound notebooks, SPF 30,
frisbees, my peanut butter budget, and a miraculous supply of exact
change for busses, which run every hour.

I'm thankful for the top mattress on my bunk bed which features a
spunky Mickey Mouse, the Neptalina which smells like a fish store but
covers up the mold, my bamboo bookshelf, the full body mirror my host
mom uses when I'm not around, my $2 thermos, spray-on deoderant, free
medical supplies, the library, sunshine, unlimited access to markers
and construction paper, my elephant figurine, good magazine, satellite
tv, the accordion, our water tank, mix tapes of rap music, beers to
go, everyone who greets me on the street, and my bicycle.

I'm grateful for You.
You.
You.
I wish this was a phone call so I could tell You that I'm grateful for
You.

I'm grateful for a family who supports me, who tells me yes when I ask
if I can do crazy things, who does crazy things themselves, who
convinced me when I was young that I was smart, and when I already
felt old that I could still be anything. A family that shares what
they know, what they have, what they feel with me. A family of friends.

Friends who are like family.

Traditions. Innovations. Understanding. Improvisation.

Red paint. Nick Drake. Ten minutes I spent with a friend once, and
most of all, that feeling that something is there. The knowledge that
God exists. The communion with Him. Those constant reminders that He's
in love with us.

I'm grateful for everything. Even if it hurts sometimes, our life is a
mist. It took you two minutes to read this. Now I hope you're going to
move on to something else that gives you pleasure. I hope today you
get to watch football and eat so much you feel uncomfortable, but feel
so comfortable around your friends or family or whoever you are with
now that you tell them, truly, how you feel. I hope they ask. I hope a
tradition gets carried on. I hope you start a new one. I hope you
don't stop, not even for a second, talking about that thing that's got
you motivated to go out and get 'em. I hope you don't want to leave
the party yet when you're supposed to. I hope you get home safe. I
hope you're family's in love with you. I hope a lightning storm didn't
scare your dog while you were gone. I hope you sleep well. I hope you
wake up Friday, with the day off and leftovers in the fridge and
sunshine outside and you have someone to toss the pigskin with. I hope
you look around at what you've got close to you and your heart gives a
fist pump. I hope nostalgia doesn't mean a thing yet because these are
still the good old days. This is Thanksgiving. I hope you have a happy
Thanksgiving. Be well. I miss you.

I love you like crazy.