Tax day. Or, rather, tax night. Last night we did our thankfulness ritual by the light of the upheld cell phone driving home from the post office. Not so picturesque, perhaps, but we have always had some of our best discussions between the driver’s seat and the car seat. Like last night, when he gave a negative outlook on something and I asked “Is the glass half empty or half full?”, and he responded, “That would be both, right?”
Tonight he must have had many things on his mind he wasn’t talking about. He was thankful for puns (he’s mine alright!), for Ferry Beach (the amazing Unitarian Universalist beach camp we visit each summer), and for Grampy (who passed away about this time last year). I was thankful for his being an independent thinker.