Anniversary

A year ago, I stood shivering on my front steps, wearing my Boston Marathon sweatshirt and running shorts, as the contents of our lives were unloaded into the house. It was a new experience in many ways-- we were in a place I'd never lived before, starting Eddie's first real job, and for the first time in our married lives, we weren't the ones carrying the boxes! I relished the cold weather after losing my shivering impulses during our four years in Houston, and kept looking up at the mountain to the east of our house with such a sense of wonder. It was the kind of day where I felt like I needed to pinch myself-- I couldn't believe it was finally here; the end of school, the new house in the foothills, the life near family we'd missed so much.

During the first month, that "pinch me" feeling never really left. I loved the way that everything seemed to be in such sharp focus. I loved the deep, rich greens of the mountains around me, I ran past yards and felt for the first time in my life an almost insatiable urge to garden (thus far suppressed, I'm afraid). I couldn't believe how welcoming my neighbors and my ward were. My kids were making friends, Eddie was happy in his job, and I kept waking up thinking, "I never want to stop feeling grateful for the blessing of being here."

And that's a lot coming from me, the Yankee from Connecticut who swore for years that she'd never live in Utah.

This spring, the gardens are just as beautiful as last, the green of the mountains just as soothing, my favorite running trail up the canyon just as magical, but I feel like it's because I'm making a conscious effort to keep it that way. Last year, I woke up suffused with the feeling of gratitude; this year I remind myself to be grateful. It's not as effortless, but no less genuine.