Day 1,451
Most nights, I write lists about what I'm thankful for. I write them because I've learned that not writing them is detrimental to my mental health and well-being. Not writing them allows me to become complacent. I go along thinking things are fine for a time and then I wake up one day and realize I'm in the middle of a black ocean in the middle of a stormy night with a leaky raft and no flashlight. I have no idea how I got there, but it happens every time. I end up there when I don't spend time each day being thankful. Being thankful is a part of my religion now.
It is through this practice of writing the good things that I realized the absolute beauty and truth and realness in the color of Adelyn and Tobin's eyes. In the perfect tone and shade of their skin. In the way they smile. In the way their rooms are always just a little bit messy. I realized that they are the flesh and blood embodiment of a promise kept. I love their tiny voices. I love their little fingers and fingernails. I love the way their bathroom is always messy and their sink is always full of toothpaste. I love the clothes they leave behind their bathroom door. I love the Legos strewn over every surface of the playroom. I love the way they want to cuddle in bed with me and read a book. I love the way they try to help. I love their salty tears. The color of their lips. The way my arms feel when I hold them. The way our life looks because of them. They are my reason for waking in the morning. They are my reason for working hard. They are my reason for trying to better myself.
I'm thankful for two little people named Adelyn Bailey and Tobin Solomon. They are the greatest gifts I have ever received. And I am fully aware that I did absolutely nothing to deserve them or the happiness and joy they bring me. They, and the joy they bring, are pure and absolute: gift.
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