I'm Thankful

All week, or even all month, I've been looking forward to Thanksgiving. Not only are Wednesday and Friday my first days off (not counting holidays) since I started my job in July, but it's my first time spending any amount of time back in Longmeadow. This morning when I woke up, I was tired but knowing I'd be in Longmeadow later tonight put me in an instant good mood. And when I got off my train and walked outside, it was snowing. The last time it snowed, I was already in the office before it started. So this was my first, first-person experience with active snowfall since last winter (or spring, technically).

I only walk outside for about 25 seconds as I get from the Garden/commuter rail portion of North Station to the Green and Orange lines portion of North Station, but those 25 seconds of snowfall where all I needed.

As I walked into the station, I saw the guy handing out the free Metro newspapers. He's one of two guys that are always there in the mornings. I take a paper every single day, so when neither of them were there yesterday (it was bible salespeople, instead), I was disappointed. Today, just as I made eye contact with him, he dropped his stack of papers on the ground. Because we are consumerist jerks in 'merica, today's paper was enveloped in a giant sales circular from somewhere, making the normal matte newspaper print slippery due to the circular's glossy finish. I could tell he was having a hard time by the look of sheer frustration when he dropped them. He paused, and didn't bend down to pick them up right away. I think he was doing one of those, count to 10 in my head instead of cursing out loud, things. So I started to bend down to help him, but he smiled, put his hand out, and said, "No. Thank you dear." I smiled, took a paper, and went on my way. I made it exactly eight steps before I started bawling my eyes out. I don't know whether they were happy tears, sad tears, PMS tears, or what. He must know that everyone who takes a paper from him in the mornings is in a rush to get somewhere, and that he shouldn't let me make myself late. I started wondering how he was going to spend Thanksgiving. He can't make much, if anything, passing out free newspapers. Even if he does, he gets pushed, shoved, hardly ever thanked, and stands in a covered but freezing cold (or boiling hot) entrance.

I won't see him again this week as he's only there in the mornings and I'm off all week, but I decided that I have to do something. His hands are always full of newspapers but there's a window ledge nearby where he keeps a coffee. Maybe I'll bake some cookies or get him a $5 gift card for Dunkin Donuts. I don't know, but I feel compelled to do something. I literally tear up every time I think of this morning's interaction and I cannot figure out why it's bothering me so much, but it is.

Bottom line: I'm thankful for everything in my life. It may not be perfect, but it is exactly as it should be.

First post-surgery bummer

With nothing but positive comments from my friends, family, and other people who knew how bad my eyes were before my orbital decompression and even still before my eyelid lowering surgery, today was my first reality check that my eyes will never be exactly as they were before Graves'.

A guy at work, who rarely talks to anyone, said, "You always have this look of surprise. Like you're thinking, 'I didn't just see that, did I?'"

Little does he know, my heart just broke a little and it's more like, "I didn't just HEAR that, did I?"

Guess I need to consider that follow-up surgery after all...