thank you notes (c)(3)

i’m thankful that i had the opportunity to have—for the first time—taken part in havdalah saturday. i’m thankful for the invitation i received from a family i’ve grown to know through synagogue.

i’m thankful that they have children who are younger than i because i always feel more comfortable talking to those younger than me. i’m thankful for how comfortable they are with me talking to their children, as i’ve found with age many parents worry when older boys talk to their children, becoming fearful that i am a ‘negative influence.’ i’m thankful that this is not the case as i’m very close with another family there who i have known longer than the amount of time i’ve been going to synagogue.

i’m thankful for the ceremony of havdalah, the smelling of the incense, the lighting—and subsequent extinguishment—of the candle, the collective chanting of prayer. i’m thankful for the comment s made afterwards: ‘if this was your first time seeing this, and you didn’t know anything about havdalah or judaism, you’d think this was the most cult-like ritual you’d ever seen.’ i’m thankful to have been able to laugh, just as i had been able to laugh at the comment made earlier to me about how i would have to give the blood sacrifice. i’m thankful that as jews we can laugh about these things; poke fun at the very lies that have been used to spread fear of our people and encourage violence against us. i’m thankful that we live in a time and in a country where although antisemitism is rampant, we can still laugh about the ludicrous nature of the libel and slander so set on destroying and humiliating us.

i’m thankful for laughter. i’m thankful that even in the face of the most depressing of circumstances, one can still make a joke; still laugh. i’m thankful that when i went and picked up the remainder of the citalopram my doctor had reluctantly prescribed—albeit under the recommended initial dose and with the words: ‘i don’t like to keep people on this stuff for too long’— i opened the bag and discovered that the remainder of my prescription was six pills. i’m thankful i have ten pills sitting in a pill container, ten pills which laugh at me, repeating the words of my doctor, ‘i don’t like to keep people on this stuff for too long.’ too long it turns out is two months. two months is still long even if you have major depression. two months of asking for a bump and being denied. a month of holding on to the last four pills ‘just in case’ even though you well right know that’s not how they work.

i’m thankful for the realization my friend had today while we were facetiming: ‘wait, you leave this saturday?’ i’m thankful for how amusing i found it despite her obvious surprise and uneasiness. i’m thankful we made plans for wednesday before i leave. although i’m less thankful this will be our last time meeting until at least december, i’m thankful for the change in scenery that will accompany this.

i’m thankful each time i think about the next few months and years ahead; to think about a place where no one know me and a place i know no one, or for that matter anything. i’m thankful for the fear that accompanies these very same feelings for they show humanity, something that despite my hyper-humanization of others, i neglect to recognize in myself.

i’m thankful i am human. i’m thankful to be alive. i’m thankful for the future, as well as the past. thank you.

- c (08/15/2016).

Previously: 1, 2