Thank you, Earth.

The man standing behind the dried mango sampling booth at Costco imparted some advice I keep thinking about. I normally steer clear of samples at Costco because it stresses me out to see people snatching up things like crazy people just because they are free, and I don't want to be that way, but this guy was filling up paper cup after paper cup with dried mango without any takers. I got one and gave it to Remy. While he was busy making himself the stickiest baby within miles, Carl and I had a nice talk with the mango sampler. He was from India and hadn't been here too long. He shared interesting details about himself with us: delhi, gem-studying, rock climbing, portland dreams. But the thing he said in passing that I can't stop thinking about is that each morning when he wakes up, before his feet his the ground, he reaches down, touches the earth and says, "thank you for letting me walk around on you today." Why have I never done that? Or even thought to do that. I think I'm grateful, mostly. And I do care about the earth, I am constantly taking recyclable things out of the trash at my house (a battle I can discuss later) and folding them up for the recycle can. I love being outside, clouds, grass, rain, thunder, but have I ever stooped close and whispered 'thank you' to this good earth? I don't know that I have. I certainly didn't the other morning when I emerged from the tent after my second night of camping and both my hips were bruised, even with a foam pad underneath (I have some powerful hips). I wish I would have said thank you, even then, especially then, because the river was humming, the dirt smelled damp and fresh, and I saw every star in the sky as I fell asleep the night before. Thank you mango man, for showing me there is always more to be happy for than I had remembered.