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Thankful?

The autumn time change always hits me in the face. I’m never quite prepared, even though it happens every year. I know it’s coming. I know it’s only an hour difference. Yet, it somehow catches me off guard. Each November, I wonder if I was this thrown off by it the previous year and the years before that. In short: Yes.

Will I be this thrown off by it next year? In short, definitely.

Someone posts a Wall of Gratitude at work. This gets me thinking as much as my fogged brain will allow, which admittedly isn’t much.

I realize that it’s a good idea at this time of year to think of things we are thankful for, not only because Thanksgiving happens this month, which is a day when you’re supposed to be thankful. It’s a good idea because this time of year is tough. The light and warmth of summer are gone, shoved away like lawn chairs and pool toys. By now, enough time has passed that summer seems like a pleasant dream. I feel as if I’ve woken to a dark and cold reality.

Because the reality is, it’s dark and cold.

Okay, so it’s dark. You wake up in the dark; you drive home from work in the dark. You spend what used to be a sunny late afternoon in the dark. Night lasts most of the day as well as the night.

So, what’s good about that?

I have to think a bit before I can come up with anything, but I do. After the rush of summer, trying to squeeze as much in while the balmy winds blow, it’s kind of nice to stop. When darkness descends in mid-afternoon, I don’t feel slothful sitting on the couch and reading. If I turn on a movie, I don’t feel like I should be doing something else. It’s dark. I don’t need to do anything I don’t feel like doing. I don’t need to go anywhere if I don’t feel like going anywhere.

It’s a relief to have a weekend that is quiet. In summer, I travel a lot because I feel that if I’m not moving and doing, I’m wasting time. Summer is so fleeting that I feel guilty if I let the slightest bit of grass grow under my feet. So, I get up early, get behind the wheel, and go. Always go, go, go. Now, I can curl up in my blankets on an icy Saturday morning, content in the knowledge that I have no plans. Nowhere to go.

Yes, it’s dark, and also it’s cold. To me, this means that my cat Wolfgang will once again take residence on my lap as often as possible. If I’m home, he’s on me as soon as I sit down. In summer, he doesn’t want to cuddle, and I don’t want him on me anyway. He’s a tiny blast furnace, cute but lethally hot. On chilly days and nights, though, there’s nothing sweeter and more soothing than to have him on my lap.

I’m not a great cook, but when the temperature drops, I like to try new dishes. The good thing is I’m the only one who has to eat what I produce. So, I pull out recipes, gather groceries, and later, when I’m home on an evening that’s bitter, I pour a glass of wine or a cup of mulled cider. It’s a nice process. In summer, it’s much too stifling to make anything. I barely want to eat. On frosty days, the house smells good even if the end result doesn’t taste as good as it smells.

So, at this time of year, in the dark and cold, am I thankful? Absolutely.

I’m thankful for what I’m always thankful for: My family and my friends. I’m also thankful for what this frigid and gloomy time of year can bring: A much-needed slowdown. A snuggly feline. A good meal.

What am I most thankful for at this moment as shadows loom and winds wail? Okay, we’re all friends here. I’ll fess up. I’m most thankful that in four months, we’ll all spring forward.

Juliana Gribbins is a writer who believes that absurdity is the spice of life. Her book Date Expectations is winner of the 2017 Independent Press Awards, Humor Category, and winner of the 2016 IPPY silver medal for humor. Write to her at jeepgribbs@hotmail.com. Read more of her columns at www.zip06.com/shorelineliving.