Good morning. It’s a good morning to be alive and grateful.
Grateful to be alive.
The parking garage gate came down and hit my car right where the roof meets the windshield—right over my head!—and I am alive. Shaken up, my car smashed up, my neck hurts and my jaw is clicking, and I am alive. I can move, I can walk, my limbs work, and I am alive. Grateful. Grateful. Grateful.
Grateful for my witchy email tree. I called Rowan and she posted for me that I needed love and support for the drive home. And I made it the fifteen or so miles in one piece and in good shape and I am grateful. Cushioned, guided, by the goddess.
I am grateful to be alive.
I am grateful for my sisters’ compassion and my witchster’s spells and love.
I am grateful for Barbara’s common sense.
I’m grateful for ice and advil.
I’m grateful for my chiropractor whom I will see as soon as possible.
I’m grateful to be alive.
I am grateful for a wonderful witchy gathering with Raven and Shar. Raven carries a teeny weeny altar in a teeny weeny bag. A square of cloth. A match (fire). A seashell (water). A feather (air). I don’t remember her earth totem. And a coin in the center with a raven on it. She set up this altar on the restaurant table and we had a lovely two-hour talk about covens and croning and all things witchy.
I am grateful for Kismet allowing me to do a reading for her. And for time spent with her.
And for errands done and food bought and cooked. And for my health.
And for being alive. Have I mentioned that?