In Which the Author Expresses Thanks

I'm thankful for a lot of things. And for a lot of things that are not things.

Hey--I'm alive. Rumour has it that my birth mother starved out two pregnancies in between my sister and myself. I could have been next.

Growing up, I hated my life. I had the kind of parents that rarely let me do anything, or gave me any indication that I was special to them. Now, I know I was, but then? Not so much. They were dead scared of spoiling me. Now, they are just dead. I'm thankful that I had them as long as I did.

So, of course, when I was 18, I decided that True Love had passed me by, and married the first harmless guy who asked me. Anything to ditch the initials, V. D., with which I had been stuck. Less than a year later, I had a baby that we put up for adoption. I am thankful that he had a good home. Lord knows, he would not have had one with us. Life is sweet.

My second husband gave me two beautiful daughters. He gave me a lot of headaches, besides, but the daughters made it all worthwhile. I raised girls who are smart, lovely, and don't take no shit from nobody. They have become terrific women and good mothers. Life is sweet.

Jimmy gave me my son. I'm well aware that 40 is a tad bit late to be having a baby, but, so far, it has worked out well. My son is tall, intelligent and handsome. He is also in "A Christmas Carol" at Round Rock High School, and I will get to see him dance. Life is sweet.

Six years ago, I married the love of my life. It doesn't get any better than that. So what if my back aches, my hair goes grey, and my upper lip completely disappears. Life is still sweet.

Hey! I'm still alive!