Did you hear? Well did you? About the couple at the end of the block? The ones with the two little kids? The big house? No? You haven’t heard? Oh my god, you are not going to believe it? So, it was last Tuesday, and I am working from home, only one in the house, kids at school, K is at the office, and the dog went for his walk. So I have this 3 hour project call. Fries my brains, completely. Need something to fix it. Cake, cookies caffeine. All I find in the kitchen is the empty cake plate , on the counter and not in dishwasher as usual, and an empty box of Oreos in the pantry; alas, no sugar fix to be had. But at least there’s still a cup of lukewarm coffee left. Don’t have to worry about the kids drinking that, yet! So I pour myself a cup, open the front porch and watch the rain hammer our street clean, praying it’s not enough to come up through the floor like last time and flood our basement. When out of the corner of my eye I catch something, movement on her driveway.

He stood staring. At the wall. Like it was going to do something. Like the harder he stared the more profound the action this wall might take. He would just stand there for hours. Not saying anything. As if nothing else existed, but he and that goddamn wall. Fuck! I am mean what the fuck? Who the fuck stares at a wall all day? What was he hoping to accomplish? What was he hoping to learn? I have no ideas. This is exactly where he used to stand. I could not get him to stop. I should have tried harder. I should have found a hospital; a home. I failed him. This is all my fault. I will learn to live with you

It’s official, I am falling apart. Muscles sore, ligaments stretched, tendons pulled away from the bones. That’s me. Not stooped exactly but shrunken by 52years of vity. Walking with a limp, forever – thanks toI’m one significantly shorter tibia. Arms, in the smaller side, but on the days when I contemplate biceps curls I think about Tyrannosaurus rex, perhaps the most feared predator the earth has ever known, and look at his arms, two little twigs, l in e a stick figure drawing, only he wasn’t a drawing. Either am I, with the ever present BMI to align against,, the “ab” always here to mind itq

It had started early this year. Earlier than most. The cracking. The slight crevasse of skin; tearing at the middle knuckle on the back of the hand. The red line showing the skin layers underneath. The epidermis on the left and right revolting at the slightest indication of cold. It had only just become jacket weather. The shorts still being washed and dried and ironed and neatly folded in the bottom drawers to be worn next years. The leaves just beginning to blush red and yellow and fire orange. The air conditioner remotes gathered and put away. The boiler not yet fired up; the radiators not yet bled. But there is was that familiar discomfort. The separation of skin. The first sign of fall.

All right, all right, all right! Gratitude here we be. Today I am grateful for my job. Been here now four years. The longest I have been at any job in my life. Making the highest salary I have had in my career. Working with a diverse, talented, hard working, and forward thinking team. Working for a good boss: engaged, methodical, good communicator, but perhaps most importantly, and above all else, a human being. A question asker, a taker of interest, a leave you alone r to do what you do yet always available for a conversation, question, idea exchange, guidance, insight, the office is close. 25 min drive, maybe just a little bit longer by subway. And work from home option. My favorite commute of all. The challenge in front of me right now is trying to expand my role, gain experience outside my team, increase my skill sets and knowledge, and who knows, eventually maybe carve a role entirely outside proposal development: similar to the way that I have been involved with Assetmanagement. In fact, just had a conversation with James regarding taking on any project work that may still need to be kead once Geoff leaves. The space is modern, clean and bright, in close proximity to a wall of floor to ceiling windows that provide spectacular unobstructed views of the neighborhood. In fall, my favorite season, a sea of oranges, reds, yellows.

Okie dokie, folks. Put the snacks down and fasten your seatbelts. We are about to embark on gratitude journal number two. Yeah! Two! Fucking, eh! Now we’re cooking with gas as my grandfather used to say. The topic of today’s entry – my toe. Yeah, you read that right – my toe. That’s what I am grated for today. There is no rule, as far as I am aware, that the body part you are grateful for still has to be attached to your body, definitively not in my case. And I suppose that what I am thankful for. I am thankful to the surgeon who, I believe Quickly assessed that it it wasn’t just the physical sore keeping me down but the mental weight of having and treating a wound for more than two years that sometimes looked a little bit better and sometimes looked a little bit worse, but never healed, no matter what kind of interventions we tried. I am thankful for the words uttered at our first meeting after an examination of the toe, a look at X-rays and a quick chat – 10 words, 10 very welcome words – “if it was me I would just take it off”. Sold! I am thankful for this guidance. I am thankful to the surgeon and his entire surgical team for a smooth and complications free amputation. I am thankful that I no longer need to spend countless hours tress hours driving across town to nursing stations to change the dressing. I am thankful that I can now walk on the beach, and swim, and be barefoot on carpets and hardwood and ceramic tile and linoleum without risk of infection. I am thankful I can resume my full exercise routine, that it hasn’t effected the deadlift, but there’s not a day goes by that I wish I could skip, I am glad that that the piggy who went to market and the one who had roast beef and the one who had none and the one who went wee wee wee all the way home are still here and thriving. As for the one who went to market, you were a great toe. Thank you for your service. Thank you for every step, every jump, and every skip that we have taken together on this crazy journey over the last 50 years. I owe you more than I ever be able to pay back.

Okay, here we go. “Let’s get it on!” As Bruce buffer might say. This is a gratitude journal. What ever that means. Day one. Pretty sure you would say it’s real simple Johnny boy. Just write shit you are grateful for. Make time everyday. Everyday? WTF? Really? Who has time for that? None-the-less, here it goes. I am grateful for two, beautiful, healthy, passionate kids. I am grateful that I am so blessed to heave both a daughter and a son. To have both energies in the house. I am grateful that they each have a good set of friends. Evan’s long time buddies and Ella’s newer acquaintances. I am grateful that Ella and Brooklyn talk often and have a good friendship and have common interests (cooking) and seem to legitimately enjoy each others company. I am grateful that I found my person. My gorgeous, generous, compassionate, smart, sexy wife. I am grateful for all the sacrifices my parents made to give Peter and everything we needed, and we’re never in want. Sacrifices that I truly could not Comprehend the magnitude of until I had kids. I am grateful for my job. For a great team, and a good boss who is many things but above all a human being, and would never be mistaken for anything other. I am grateful I have my health, that all systems are working fine, that I am not compromised in this regard in any way. I am grateywe are able to have a house, in good neighborhood, with – for the most part – great neighbors, some of whom are truly family.

Always late. Every single time. I mean how hard is it. You say six. Then it’s six. Seven then seven. Eight then you get the fucking idea. I mean c’mon man. I’ve been here for three beers. Jesus, the plan was for one drink, maybe two then home early. Looks like that’s not happening. Why can’t you just be a normal person. Who shows up on time, maybe, crazy talk I know, 10 minutes early to grab a table?. Seriously dude, Are you an alien? Sometimes I really fucking wonder?

She sings loud as the warm water lands on her soft shoulders, her hair, her face. She sings tunes he had never heard before. Some in Spanish, some in French, one or two in German or Dutch perhaps. Sometimes the notes envelop him, warm all over like a bed warm hug, sometimes they linger long in the shadows, in the dark corners, brooding, heavy. Sometimes they would float, light, almost silly through the house, for no other reason than fun, These ones made him smile. Always made him feel grateful for everything he has and everything he will have. He sings too, classic rock and roll that always sounds great in his head. And as she has assured him on multiple occasions, sounds less good released into the air. A house can’t have two vocalists he would reassure himself, I mean she’s the artistic, passionate creative one and he, he is what? Good at math? Financially conservative? Above average list maker? Created of plans? Follower of recipes? Flosser? Password archivist? Expiration date believer? God, he thought, when you put it like that…but seriously what? What is he?

Uh huh, yes, I understand, he said before the line went silent. Dead? He thought. He hadn’t looked so good the last couple of times he had visited, sat across the kitchen table, drinking cheap whisky from barely clean glasses. Perhaps he looked tired?He thought. No – not tired exactly. Haggard? Perhaps. Weary? Yes, weary! That’s precisely what he was. From what he had no idea. Evertime he asked his father he would say it’s nothing, I’m fine, forget it. And he would drop it…again and again…till it sat in every conversation like an elephant, its giant hoof crushing both their skulls, He placed his phone on the kitchen counter and retrieved a beer from the fridge. The only other inhabitants: a jar of expired mayonnaise and a half eaten Italian salami that was also starting to turn. What is it that you actually eat? His sister in law asks half dressed, head under his bead, searching for her car keys and panties, confident she will beat his brother home.