Never Not Amazed: On gratitude

Sunset over Potts Harbor. (ERIN O’MARA PHOTO)

I love a magic moment. Not the cocktail or the song but the warmth, strength and connection — a fleeting and magical sense of deep peace from knowing I’m in the exact right place at the exact right time.

The dance of candlelight reflected on a tin ceiling makes me happy.

The disco ball hanging in our living room casts a mosaic of light and delights me. It’s the result of a pandemic dance party — just me and my partner dancing past midnight. When he joked, “The only thing that would make this better is a disco ball,” we took a short break and, through the miracle of the internet, a mirrored ball and motor arrived two days later. It’s mounted where a ceiling fan used to be. It spins. Anyone who sees it for the first time reacts with equal parts joy and confusion.

I’m grateful for the house the disco ball hangs in. I think of every scuff and ding as “patina” and the breeze through the living room walls as healthy air exchange.

I’m grateful for the technology that helps me find whatever’s important to me and grateful for the UPS man who always shows up and so consistently gives the dog treats that she salivates when he pulls up and once trotted outside, gave me a quick backward glance, and climbed into the truck.

Alphabet pretzels (all 26 letters plus “@”) add an educational dimension to snacking. They’re even better when they’re baked in butter.

Brownies, a treat that’s not quite a cake and not quite a cookie, are inspired. The person who invented them is a culinary genius who has contributed to my happiness too many times to count.

I appreciate a well-placed curse word. Sometimes, it’s satisfying to let one rip, and a recent study that suggests people who use swear words are highly intelligent excuses my potty mouth.

I’m grateful for the grounding rhythm of seasons: when to plant, when to tell people they missed the turn to The Dolphin and Erica’s, when to harvest …

I’m lucky to have great role models and blessed to love and be loved.

I like snickerdoodles. They taste good but mostly I like them because “snickerdoodle” is a silly word that feels good rolling around in my mouth.

I’m grateful to have choices and a network of support. I’m grateful for humor and the healing power of laughter.

My parents are together, happy, healthy, and busier than I am.

I like to make my bed with fresh, warm sheets straight out of the dryer. Then I like to get in it right away.

Volunteering makes me feel connected and I’m glad to lend a hand. I believe good intentions can start a wave effect, so a small act might be bigger than I think.

I love that Mr. Rogers was right and you can find helpers everywhere.

Comfortable shoes are a relief, and my L.L. Bean slippers are a revelation.

Have you ever listened to a recording of Mahalia Jackson singing “Silent Night”? The first time I heard it, I felt all the feelings and I cried. I’m glad it’s almost “Silent Night” season again.

I’m grateful for my life’s soundtrack. I danced in a Pizza Hut parking lot while Elvis Costello blasted from a car radio. I slam-danced to ska music in a warehouse in New York City and compared bruises with my roommate the next day.

I’m grateful my dumb choices added up to good stories and nothing more.

Children of all ages give me the gift of laughter and perspective. They look on the world with clear-eyed purpose, poise, and strength. I’m sorry for the burden we’ve placed on them but sleep better because I know we’re in good hands.

I rejoice in a good night’s sleep now that I’m past the point in my life where my ability to sleep is a given.

My partner has strong, capable hands and a wealth of knowledge and ability. I love watching him work, in part because his skill is impressive and in part because if I’m watching him, I’m probably not working myself. I love that he loves me and I love him right back.

I like that people make rock cairns by the Giant’s Stairs and I’ve made a few myself. I like staring into the endless deep sea, feeling infinite and insignificant at the same time. I love blazing sunsets and deep-pink mornings that only happen with the help of the ocean that surrounds us.

Erin O’Mara lives in Harpswell and serves on the Harpswell News Board of Directors.