Thursdays at Eight

I want to practice gratitude. I know that sounds hokey, but instead of concentrating on the negative, I want to look at the positive side of life. After that horrible flu, I’m grateful for my health, and yes, I can even find reasons to be grateful for my mother-in-law. (She must have done something right, considering how Peter turned out.)

I’ve decided to start every journal entry with five things for which I’m thankful. I’m calling it my List of Blessings. That way I can begin my day on a positive note.

I feel the breakfast club has become my own personal support group. Every Thursday at 8—what a treat! And to think that I never would have enrolled in the journal-writing class if not for Georgia. Leave it to my cousin to con me into something I didn’t want to do, because she refused to go alone. Sure enough, I sign up for the class and three weeks later Georgia drops out. But I didn’t feel abandoned since I’d met Liz and Clare and Karen by then and we’d bonded like super glue. I stayed in the class so I could be with them.

It began with the four of us meeting after class. We’d go to the Denny’s restaurant near the college for coffee. Then when the session was over, Liz suggested we continue meeting. She’s the one with all the good ideas. It made sense that we get together at the same time as the original class, but with teenagers at home it’s difficult for me to take one night a week out of my already heavy schedule; doing that was hard enough while the course was in session. Trying to find a mutually agreeable time proved to be the biggest challenge. I suggested we meet for breakfast, and everyone leaped on that. Sometimes the obvious solution isn’t immediately noticeable.

Georgia’s sorry she dropped out of the class. I haven’t invited her to join our breakfast group. Perhaps it’s selfish of me to keep my newfound friends to myself, but I need this. I need them. The things we talk about, the things we share, are not always for Georgia’s ears. She might be my best friend and my cousin, but I wouldn’t want any part of the group’s conversation to be repeated. Georgia, God love her, couldn’t keep a secret if her life depended on it.

Peter and I didn’t do anything all that exciting to bring in the New Year. The kids were with friends at church for an allnight youth program. We went out to dinner with the Bergmans. It’s tradition now that we spend New Year’s Eve together, but I wasn’t really up to it this year. I would have preferred a night with just the two of us, but I didn’t want to disappoint either Peter or our friends. We played cards and at the stroke of midnight, Peter opened a bottle of the best champagne we could afford and we toasted the New Year.

I didn’t mean to get sidetracked. My word is GRATITUDE, and the first thing I’m going to do is write my List of Blessings just so I’ll remember to keep counting them. Then, seeing that the house is quiet for once, I’m going to take a long nap.

COUNTING MY BLESSINGS

1 New beginnings.

2 My husband and his mother. God bless her!

3 Good friends like the Bergmans.

4 The sound of Adam’s laughter and the sweet beauty of my daughter.

5 Sleeping for ten uninterrupted hours.

“Hi, Mom.” Zoe walked into the kitchen not more than ten minutes after Julia woke up from her afternoon snooze. New Year’s was always a lazy day around their house. Her thirteen-year-old daughter fell into the seat across from her, landing clumsily in the chair. Zoe laid her head on the patchwork place mat and yawned. Her arms dangled loosely at her sides.

“Did you have a good time last night?” Julia asked.

“Yeah,” Zoe murmured with no real enthusiasm.

Julia knew that the church youth leaders had kept the kids active with swimming and roller-skating, plus a number of games that included basketball and volleyball. The night ended with a huge breakfast at 5:00 a.m., and from there everyone went home. Peter had picked up Adam and Zoe at the church, and Julia had assumed they’d sleep for much of the day. She was wrong.

“Did you and Dad have fun without us?” Zoe asked, as though she expected Julia to announce that the evening had been intolerably boring without their daughter to liven things up.

“We had a wonderful, romantic evening,” she said, wanting Zoe to realize that she and Peter had a life beyond that of being parents.

Zoe frowned. Yawning again, she stood and made her way back to her bedroom.

“What was that all about?” Peter asked, coming in from the family room where the television was tuned to one of the interminable New Year’s Day football games.

“Haven’t a clue,” Julia said, secretly amused.

“Come sit with me,” Peter invited, holding out his hand.

A dozen objections ran through her mind. The kitchen was a mess and she was behind with the laundry, but she couldn’t refuse him.

They snuggled up on the leather couch with Julia’s head on his shoulder and his arm around her. It was peaceful; the only sound came from the television, the volume kept purposely low.

“I saw you writing in your new journal,” he mentioned absently, his gaze on the TV.

“It’s perfect,” Julia said, cuddling close and expelling her breath in a long sigh.

Peter turned to study her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” He seemed to accept that, but Julia decided to confide in him about her gratitude plan. “Do I complain too much?” she asked, not certain she was going to like the answer. “The reason I ask is that I want to make an effort to be more appreciative.”

“Really.” Peter’s gaze wandered back to the screen.

“I’m making a list.”

“Good for you.”

Julia doubted he’d even heard her. Still, she continued. “I want to work on me this year.”

“That’s nice, sweetheart.”

Julia stifled a groan. “The kids are growing up and before long it’ll be just the two of us.”

“Hey, I’m in no rush,” he joked.

“I’m not, either, but it’s inevitable. Adam will get his driver’s license this year and we’ll be lucky to see either him or the car after that.” Their son was a responsible boy and it would help Julia immeasurably not to be transporting him to and from track practice, which was an irony of its own. Driving him to the track so he could run.

“Zoe’s going to be in high school soon,” Peter added.

It seemed just the other day that their daughter was seven and missing two front teeth.

Peter slipped his hand inside Julia’s blouse and cupped her breast. “I like the way we christened the New Year.” His mouth nibbled at her neck with a series of kisses that grew in length and intensity. Julia straightened, and their lips met in a kiss they normally reserved for special nights.

“There are advantages to one’s children growing up,” Peter whispered, as his hands grew bolder with her breasts.

“Oh?”

“They seem to stay in their rooms a great deal more.”

“That they do,” Julia agreed, twining her arms around his neck and luxuriating in his kiss.

“Mom. Dad.” Adam walked into the family room, his face clouded with sleep.

Peter quickly removed his hand and an embarrassed Julia tucked in her blouse.

Their son took one look at them and frowned darkly. “What’s going on?”

“Ah…nothing,” Julia mumbled, glancing away.

Adam wandered into the kitchen and made himself a cup of hot chocolate.

“I thought you two would be over the mushy stuff by now,” he muttered disgustedly as he returned. “It’s embarrassing to catch your parents in a lip lock.”