I have a small kitchen. It's lovely and efficient and quaint and perfect for our little family.
I love it's little wooden counters and my lovely bowls and mugs that adorn the shelves- gifts from our wedding that are lovingly used on the daily.
My heart still nearly skips a beat and I catch my breath each time I open our refrigerator and see it full of fresh food.
It invokes a smile and a quiet, silent breath of gratitude- to every human being who participated in the cultivation and harvest of my food;
gratitude to the earth and her soil and water and sunshine that grew this food;
gratitude to the oil- the blood of this earth- that powered the vehicles delivering it to my home;
gratitude for this breath, for this pause, for my heart reminding me of this gratefulness that silently lives within me and can bring me to tears in a moment's notice.
I lived beside hunger for a short period of my life; and yet It feels so minimal, as I know of so many others who do not have a choice in the hunger that they live with.
Their huger is not a result of a grand adventure they've embarked on, but a result of a raw reality of their daily living.
Still, I have memory in my body of hunger, memory of a time when we rationed our food and watched the way the body managed on so little.
So I do not share this glimpse for anything other than celebration of the sheer gift it is to go to bed at the end of the day with a full belly- and to acknowledge an awareness that I am privileged in this simple reality that is so easy to take for granted.
I remember the 17th day we had been in the backcountry of Patagonia on our long horse trek home- we'd already been rationing our food for ten days, as the uncertainty of how long it would actually take us to traverse that wild section of terrain was guiding us to proceed with caution.
Still, I remember the gratitude for the kilo sack of dehydrated potatoes, and the kilo of rice, and the small jar of salt and merken we still had.
And the amazing human I travel with, who made me smile after every meager meal by declaring he didn't know how I'd done it, how I had managed to make something so simple taste so good.
I am grateful