Something about a weekend of great highs and great lows that make Monday all the more difficult with which to deal. It’s jarring, the slide from the clouds to the hard ground, and then when faced with the reality and often monotony of the work week, I find myself struggling. I’m thankful for friends, true ones, who will listen when you lament and offer help, whether it be a song that they want to hear you sing, or a natural remedy for depression, or just a hug and an ear to let you vent and work it all out in your head. I’m grateful for puppies and furry snuggles and the certainty that every time my door opens, a tail will wag in welcome. I’m thankful for my beat up car that gets me from point A to point B one more day. For a job that while frustrating at times, pays bills and buys dog treats. I’m grateful for my messy kitchen because it means I have food to eat from those dirty pots and pans. And I am even grateful for tears, because it means I am living.