 This is the time of year when lots of folks voice their thankfulness in a very public way. They send cards, buy gifts and post on social media. Hell, some people even take out paid advertising.
Yes, cynics who complain all year long about all that’s wrong in their world are suddenly the epitome of humility and gratitude. (I can say this without enmity because I used to be one of them.) I am grateful to have a much more positive outlook on life these days, but I think I am most grateful to get a month-long break from these Negative Nancys’ incessant bitching. SIGH. Nope, I haven’t engaged in any of the public lists of thanks this year. I think I haven’t felt the need because I am privately grateful all year long. I frequently write gratitude lists in my journal, or send short daily prayers of thanks up to my ol’ HP (higher power). I actively count my blessings every day because taking that action plays a major role in keeping me sane, serene and sweet. For realz.
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 I put on a Halloween costume for a party this weekend. What’s significant about that statement is that I dreaded the aforementioned party for two weeks, right up until the moment I applied a final swipe of glitter to my cheeks and sauntered my sequined ass out the front door.
When it was all said and done, I looked fabulous, danced my ass off and had a wonderful time, but getting there was daunting. For one thing, I have not, historically, been particularly creative in my sporadic bouts of costumery over the years. The last costume I donned about four years ago was Sookie from True Blood, and I chose her because she was easy. I ordered a Merlotte’s T-shirt and apron from the online HBO store, added black shorts and tennis shoes, put my hair in a ponytail, slapped a plastic fang bite and some fake blood on my neck and called it a day.  My only son, Ethan Blake Higgs, will celebrate a milestone birthday this week, on May 22, and I’m having some conflicting feelings about it.
Eighteen. My oh my, how time has flown. I can still remember our first day home from Baptist East Hospital in 1995, and how terrified I was that I would break him. I didn’t. In fact, I am thrilled to say I have successfully kept another human being alive and in one piece all the way from birth to adulthood. Other parents reading this know that sometimes, simply keeping our kids safe from physical harm is the best we can do.  It was around Christmas time last year when I finally grew the cojones to stand up for myself in the context of an extremely rocky juncture of my marriage.
Needless to say, it did not go over well, and it marked the beginning of the end of that relationship. I remember feeling very anxious and unhappy during the Christmas season, not to mention resentful of my husband for casting such a pall on my favorite holiday. This year, I am in a much better place on nearly every level, so I have been looking forward to Christmas for months. I decorated my house the day after Thanksgiving, I've been blaring Christmas music in my car every day since then, and –- as evidenced by my Facebook posts -- I went into a baking frenzy a couple weeks back. This year, the spirit grabbed me by the waist and vigorously spun me around on the evergreen-adorned dance floor, and I let it. |
About Amy HiggsA former newspaper columnist, Amy takes her random, slice-of-life stories to the web. After 12 years, she's still just saying. Archives
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