Animal Tale #3

The nest is now gone, but oh, I am so grateful

I remember growing up watching my dad write in his gratitude diary. Once a day, at the end of the day, he would sit down, think for a few minutes, and write down a few words. As a child, I didn’t quite understand what he was doing.

Once I learned how to read, he began letting me peek at his pages. His handwriting wasn’t the easiest, especially for a little girl like me, but I remember deciphering words like: the sun, the sunset, the place where I live, my daughters. At the time, seeing myself mentioned in the diary didn’t mean much to me. Only now does my heart fill with warmth and joy. 

Back then, what struck me instead was the word cold. I couldn’t understand it. How could anyone be grateful for the cold? Ugh.

Years later, as a way of reconnecting with him, and perhaps in an attempt to grow into the kind of person he was, I began writing my own gratitude diary. I struggle with keeping up routines, and over the past few years, I’ve started many different diaries: in various formats and shapes, on my phone, my laptop, in a blog, inspired by Oulipo by creating different writing restrictions and rules for myself. As a result, these diaries are now scattered randomly all over my house.

Just yesterday, while pairing up my socks, I found one in the drawer. On the first page I read: Today I am grateful for… Well, first I had listed a few things I now can’t recall, and then: a lady in the supermarket who let me cut the line and offered to pay for my groceries. It was dated April 2024. What a magical day that must have been. 

Oh, what an amazing thing it is to be alive.

I kept reading. Between more relatable (and, let’s be honest, quite general) entries like my friends, the enchiladas I had for dinner, and my family, I found some other incredible events.

I am grateful for the old man on the electric bike who pushed me up the only hill in The Hague. For the stranger on the train who gave me a pack of tissues after seeing how badly I was struggling with allergies. I am grateful for the bird nesting on top of a chimney, which I can see when going to work in the morning and when coming back home in the evening. 

I am grateful for losing my ring, only to find it a few weeks later in the box where I keep the parmesan. I am grateful for that bird again, who, I swear, turned and winked at me on my way back home.

Oh, I am so grateful for that bird, who, after looking at me once again, started flying right outside my train window.

The nest is now gone, but oh, I am so grateful 

because you are still here

with me.

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