Blessings, Counted

So here is the Matron, driving down the freeway.

There's a big roadblock. Traffic comes to a stop. She curses the planet and pulls out her cell phone: half an hour to the next class!

People! Get out of her way!

Finally, her mini-van (still cool because of the peace signs, Dodge) is able to inch by the obstruction.

A hearse.

Overturned jeep, people weeping and wailing. And the Matron was struck by the fact that she felt 'inconvenienced.'

Fourteen years ago, the day before Thanksgiving, the Matron's father died. Her brother and sister hadn't laid eyes on him for a decade. But the Matron, then a Young Miss, was a steady presence in his life.

So today -- approaching the day of gratitude and the birthday, she's somber. And very grateful to be here, and fully aware that some day, she won't be.