This book I'm reading, A Year to Live, by Stephen Levine is amazing. I think I've been looking for it for years. It talks about cultivating a practice of gratitude, among other things. So here goes:

I'm grateful for having spent the last 48 hours with my husband. One night in a state park cabin, and one night camping in the first brand new tent we've ever owned. (All the superb hand me downs from Greg's dad finally having given out.) Thursday night, we got to the cabin late, just as it began to rain. In the cabin, with the front door wide open, we spent a couple of hours in the dark talking and watching this crashing thunderstorm unfold just outside the door. In the morning, the sun shone, and we sat on the porch listening to birds. Later we drove across the county to a national forest and set up camp. Dinner in a Tibetan restaurant in Bloomington, and an evening at the campsite under the stars. This morning we hiked to the beach and sat by the lake. We drove by two houses we lived in, long ago, and both places where we worked during the graduate school years. Also, ice cream in Brown County, the Buddhist Chorten in a field I remembered years ago, a near brush in the wrong lane with a cement truck, and we're still alive. Oh, Bloomington! I'm grateful for the years we spent there, and the chance to go back now and then. Finally home to the kids, where it turned out everyone was happy, Star Wars savvy, and an afternoon to mow the lawn. I'm grateful for sunny skies and a strong back. I'm grateful for life. I am.