I Try To Be Grateful

Written on December 14, 2020 

I tried to be grateful for my husband this morning. 
He’s pissed I want the car which I usually cede to him 
because he’s so A.D.D. and I, 
I’m just a little. 
I tried to be grateful because I have him 
and I know my friend Jane has no one, 
she’s alone in this pandemic wilderness. 
She goes for long walks 
with a borrowed dog. 
I remind myself I at least 
have someone to bicker with 
all day long, 
unless I let him have the car. 
I can stay home and dream 
and watch the water rise 
and fall with the tide. 
I can be thankful the monstrous fir 
that floats astride the slack, 
that’s as long as the ferry, 
doesn’t hit our bulkhead 
and smash our ladder 
into ricely bits. 
I admit I’m thankful for my neat 
warm house 
when the sky is grey 
and the rain hits the metal roof 
like fusillades of bullets. 
I try to imagine sunshine and beach time 
at Playa del Carmen but awake 
from my daydream to my cranky spouse. 
He must be tired of my naggy jabs 
and my saggy flesh. 
I’m thankful he’s not my friend’s spouse 
who has back pain and whose 
doctors don’t seem to realize he has cancer 
unless proven otherwise. 
I try hard to remember love, 
to be love, to emanate love 
instead of nasty. 
Maybe tomorrow I won’t read the news. I’ll radiate sunshine 
and elevate all around me 
so we can beam down
on those around us 
and spread much needed joy. 

Laura Celise Lippman