I recently attended a workshop that focused partly on the concept of gratitude.  If the sound of that already makes you want to vomit, I hear you. When I saw the item on the agenda, I groaned so loud that I had to apologize to the person sitting next to me.  

But something got to me that day, and now I’m here, typing an essay with “Gratitude” in the heading.  Because I’m either ignorant or possibly a narcissistic jerk, I haven’t properly thanked the people who have stepped up for me over the years.

Of course, my wife, kids and parents are at the top of that list.  But they know how I feel (I hope), and no one wants to read about how much I appreciate the fact that my wife doesn’t kill me when I forget to take the garbage out.  Which happens weekly, by the way, including this morning.

So, I decided that from time to time, I’d write some stories of thanks, post them here, and (when possible) reach out to the subjects to make sure they see it. Thanks for indulging me (see, this gratitude thing is working out already!).

—

“Follow me to see your babies.”

The nurse stood in the doorway of the operating room, pointing towards the exit.  I looked to my wife, sweaty and exhausted after just delivering twins. She gave me a nod of approval, so I kissed her on the forehead, told her I loved her and followed the nurse out the door. Continue reading