Despite Thanksgiving being pretty close to my number one favorite holiday, I have felt recently that even the way one expresses gratitude can be a tad...I don't know, competitive.  There are many ways to eloqute the

 (--enter noun(s)--) one is "thankful" for, but this year, it feels contrived, forced...obligatory even.

I had a list.  It was elaborately planned (seriously unlike 90% of my blog posts) and I was going to really spend some time delving into all my overwhelming blessings.  But as time passed and I felt less and less able to remember what those things really WERE, I began to panic.  I left the list of things somewhere and couldn't quite remember what they were.  Don't get me wrong, I am SWIMMING in seriously amazing (--noun(s)--), but I wanted to be really specific, to the point, profound.

Readers, I lost it.

I lost my profundity.

Furthermore, I realized that even though I had planned this big blog post that would surely bring tears and chills to even the most unaffected critic, I really just wanted to keep these things to myself.  I wanted to write pages and pages about them in my journal; I wanted to curl up inside myself and find a private, unshared, unviewed space wherein to express my thanks for really the most simple thing. 

And that is this:

That after what has been a hands-down shitty, tragic, and unlucky year, that I was able to feel any gratitude at all.  Feeling the authenticity of gratitude is a gift all its own.

And though I am open and willing to share almost anything with anyone, I realized that holding onto a few beautiful gems of gratitude all for myself and the universe...well that, my dears, is nothing short of pure, self-indulgent luxury.

This last weekend, Joel and I had the pleasure of hosting Emily and Alex.  I met Emily entirely through the blog world, and as I was driving to the airport to "meet" my friend/pen pal/kindred artist of two years, I thought to myself that the internet is magic.  Pure abrakadabrah.

The first day Emily lost her voice over two pots of tea and hours spent in the cafe as we talked, and talked, and talked.  I came to realize Emily's unique place in my heart, one that a specter of herself had already owned, but which was yet moved fully nestled into.  She is every bit as lovely as I suspected she would be (a true snow white and shockingly beautiful)...but I suppose I didn't expect to be so inspired, to learn so much...from someone so much younger than I (I still cannot believe she is only 21).  She is so warm, so open, so affectionate, so impossibly easy to love.

The lingering reason I am fond of her at this moment is our shared niche love and study of classical English literature.  Though I have many friends in my life who love and read literature, I left my nerdy circle of English Lit majors behind in college.  Of the few that remain, we share very different taste in authors.  However, Emily is inextricably connected to the same periods of English literature that I find compelling and necessary to my soul's comfort.  I found that as she spoke so articulately of poets and their connections to time and God, I was hungrily clinging to each word as if in a lecture.  She has just graduated, so this information is so fresh and vibrant upon her lips.  I began to speak of a poet that I loved, and completely forgot so many things about him...not even being able to give background information where once I could have bored everyone to tears speaking of.  How sad that this happens, but I feel more inspired that disappointed.  I went right home to find the poet (Matthew Arnold, btw) and rekindle something in me that had been flickering.  It's nice to have such a passionate shared interest.

We spent the weekend absorbing each other's presence.  We clicked as couples and individuals...and it is just such a wonderful feeling to know the internet friendship is not only virtual, but so very real.    We cried over the loss of Heathcliff; we laughed easily over differences in America/Australia; we tasted catholicbeer; we shared a blanket on the couch together.  

A few other people were around with them this weekend, loving them because they love me...loving who I love as an extension.  I needed them around to give my new friends a holistic snapshot into who I am. For indeed, I am not only Candace, but I am those who love me as well.  I am for Jessica a watch-guard; I am for Clara a lot of kisses; I am  for Mom and Dad their pride; I am for Niki a trust in women; I am for Teresa a sister and friend; I am for Jackie a sounding board; I am for Kelly a wise voice. I am for Joel a lifetime passion.  And now, I am for Emily and Alex a home away from home.  She has been loved and known by those who love and know me.

This small truth reminds me of how we need people.  We need them to give us a more well-rounded picture of the entirety of our soul.  We need them to see us as lovely so we can ourselves see the beauty inside.   We need them to help us unload the dishwasher, to write us a funny text, to massage our headaches.

Now I need one more amazing person.
Her support, her affection, her words, her being...
all are now essential for this melancholy madame.

My safety net gets stronger and more tightly knit each time I look down.
It's quite a stunning collection.