attitude of gratitude

Midwifery school is this fabulous thing. It is always interesting. Yet, when I sit down here with the white screen searing my retinas, I often find it hard to think of one interesting thing to say. So, today, a short list of things I am grateful for. I used to have a really good gratitude practice, saving little notes every day to an app in my phone. However, a year ago my phone died and took all my little notes with it. I've had a hard time renewing the practice since then, but I've got a new app now and I'm being grateful when I remember to be.

Today I am grateful for:

1. Cub's whisper, every morning when he's just waking, to cover him up because his toes are "freeeezing!"
2. Calgary in the fall. I couldn't plan more perfect weather if I tried.
3. Reminders that my parents were here and that they still take care of me: a fridge full of leftovers, a bookshelf that needs to be assembled, a kitchen light that works.
4. A clean car that PB carefully detailed on the weekend, just because.
5. Midwifery. Duh.

 I could go on forever but five feels like a good number for today.

This is it.

My alarm goes off in the morning at a godawful hour but I've been laying awake for what seems like forever. Cub is awake early too. He rolls on to his stomach and brings his face up close to mine, nose to nose, and asks, in a voice that is far too enthusiastic for the still dark morning, "are the green bells gonna turn on, Mama?" The green bells is how he refers to the alarm on my phone, a description that is perfectly endearing.

We get up slowly, he clambers over me, the softness of his baby body giving way to the bony knees and elbows of a little boy. Almost two and a half, this boy of mine, and I wince as his elbow digs firmly into my ribs. He turns the light on, enthusiastically, the way he does every morning, and announces "it's the weekend!" It's Thursday, actually, and my class starts at eight.

Year two. Year two! The first morning at school is lacking all of those signature first day of class vibes. Maybe I got them out of my system last year, or during the 6 years of my first degree. I walk to class. The room is dark, no one there. A few more people show up. We linger in the hallway, chatting, familiar already with each other as though we were just there yesterday and not separated by a summer. My phone lights up with a text and we head to the right class, which is the wrong class too, but that's not the point.

It's familiar, so familiar, and in that, there is comfort. I was dreading coming back. Anxious for everything, until yesterday my heart was not in it. And then, in the first minutes of class, sitting in a semi-circle with the wonderful women who have become some of my best friends, I remembered.

This is it.

This is it.