A few years back, I got into it with a friend over the difference between grateful and thankful. We were on vacation together and I’d said, in passing, I was grateful to be there.
“You mean ‘thankful’,” she corrected.
“No, I mean ‘grateful’.
“But you’re wrong. You’re thankful. Being grateful is like groveling. Who uses that word? Ick.”
It had started out innocent enough, as these things often do, and morphed into one of those diabolical pissing matches you’d love to get out of, but there you are, not giving an inch. Because you can’t. I kid you not, this went on for a week. We looked up proper definitions in both English and French dictionaries and on-line. Everywhere we went she would quiz the waiter / bartender / shopkeeper, “what’s the difference between thankful and grateful?”
I finally gave up and let her think she won. I couldn’t take it anymore.
I remained grateful.
I was grateful recently to receive the following (unexpected) items in the much-underrated snail mail. Who doesn’t like to get cool mail?!
First, there was the book FOLLOWING ATTICUS from MacDougal Street Baby, with this beauty, which is now framed aside our family photos on a bookshelf in the living room. I love the colors, the perfect imperfections, the movement. I call it my shy sunflower.
And not long after, there was this itty-bitty (one inch??) exact clay replica of my dog Lucy Lou, who passed away back in June, from our Lyra. Right down to her 3 legs, her pale blue eyes, and her pink-spotted nose. This beauty is safe inside a glass curio cabinet in my bedroom.
I’m grateful AND thankful, I am. Are these gifts spectacular or what?