That was the title of a blog posting on the Alzheimer Reading Room this morning to which I am responding and one I hope you will answer for yourselves.
I am grateful for a string of sunny completely pleasant early Fall days in New York this past week to which I scarcely pay attention when I am in Arizona, for the many fascinating streets with street fairs and arts festivals that I encounter when I step out of the building on weekend mornings, for the live plays and HD Met opera which play to full houses amid an excitement and enthusuasm that is uplifting and intoxicating.
I am grateful for the many friends and acquaintances who invite me into their lives and remain connected whenever I travel-thrugh reading this blog, by emai, phone calls and text messages.
I am so grateful for my husband of twenty-three years tomorrow who taught me much about opera appreciation and shared with me for so many years our love for this city and its many cultural and outdoor opportunities from the boardwalk in Coney Island to the Riverside Park in Manhattan.
I am grateful for the availability of single-portions of delicious ethnic-flavored cooked food that are available for purchase while I still wait for my GE Monogram refrigerator to be repaired.
I am grateful for the fresh flowers that grace my home, gifts from visitors who know how much I appreciate them and I am grateful for the peace and quiet of a Sunday morning spent listening to jazz music on the radio and reading the Sunday papers.
Most of all I am grateful to the loving caregivers at Arbor Rose Senior Care who are tending to my husband's needs giving me the peace of mind to be away from Arizona and especially to my son Steve for his continuing presence in my life and in my husband's life as he visits gently, speaks with the staff kindly and attends the support group, keeping me informed of my connections with friends and family. I could not imagine this respite without his assuming these responsibilities in my stead.
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