Eight years ago, early in the morning of January 8, I had a heart attack.
I was well and then suddenly I was in trouble.
Unknown to me, I tore the inner layer of the LAD artery near my heart skiing the previous day.
A blood clot formed at the tear and finally traveled to my heart.
Each year when January 8 rolls around, I give thanks.
I don't take my beating heart for granted.
I celebrate life on January 8.
I was thankful when I woke this morning.
Throughout the day, I was aware of my heart beating strongly.
So much has happened in the past 8 years.
I'm grateful I'm alive to bear witness.
I walked in warm sunshine this afternoon.
The sky was a blue porcelain bowl overheard.
Gauzy clouds touched the peaks.
The snow crunched under my trail shoes.
I passed a decaying pumpkin perched on a stump.
There was a light breeze blowing my hair.
A squirrel scolded me.
Neighbors waved.
"Thank you for this life," I whispered.
My beating heart is my Good Thing today - and every day.
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