On Gratitude, Always

The other night at the University Club, San Francisco (photographer: Whitney Lawson)

Almost three weeks ago, I rushed out of my apartment to catch an early morning flight to Chicago for an evening wedding. I had been out at a party the night before, and would be back again in less than 24 hours (I assumed, and so thought I knew this to be true), and took with me a red silk evening gown, a pair of gold evening shoes, and a fur coat. The next day, I barely made the last flight back to New York, but too late to return to my apartment before the evacuation order was issued. I plan to return this afternoon. At one point, I lost a set of borrowed housekeys and wept on a park bench until another woman in a fur coat stopped and tried to help me. I hadn't cried in three years. I realized that one never has any real sense of what another person is going through. I learned that words are not enough. I found out that more people cared about me, far more than I ever would have known in my life otherwise. My unshakeable faith in spiritual matters and astrology is gone, replaced by what I can't quite say. In some ways, I woke up from a kind of slumber that might have otherwise lasted forever; a beautiful dream but it was only that. My long-held hopes for a holiday will have to be deferred so that I can save up to move when my lease is up in the spring. This year, in truth, has been altogether bruising, and yet I have received so much. I saw my brother briefly and at one point, he observed that my sister interrupts herself when she expresses dismay and says, "But I'm so grateful for everything." I said, we live together. That's how we talk; and we are, beyond measure.

Comments

[Jonathan Rabinowitz]

There is indeed so much to be grateful for. A small benefit I've accrued from five years of reading Lux Lotus is the recognition that baubles, books, bicycles and other temporal biens are merely ritual objects signifying the true luxury, a greater awareness of the whirling, thrilling connections that join us all. Though you felt alone in the park, weeping, your honest words today have flipped that metaphor around so now the unlacquered gratitude you've earned can stand in for the objects you've lost.

[Anita]

That colour is popping on you Lauren.