The Art of Gratitude

Daniel sat on a cushioned office chair, fingers interlaced and set before him as he stared at his friend—his annoying, non-stop-chattering friend. She—Sarah—talked for what seemed like hours about rubbish, saying dumb words like “gratitude” or “integrity.” Daniel couldn’t tell if he wanted to smash his face really hard into the table or fall asleep while she talked.

“Come on, Daniel,” Sarah pleaded, brushing her dark hair from her face. “You’re such a…cynic. Can’t you try anything that involves others?”

“Yep,” said Daniel dismissively, shuffling through a sheaf of papers. “And I have. I leave cool notes for people all over my yard.”

“Do you mean those ‘beware of Daniel’ signs?” Sarah asked, gesturing to his front lawn with an outstretched hand. A diamond flashed on her ring finger, throwing the light annoyingly into Daniel’s eyes. He almost screamed with irritation but held his tongue for the sake of composure. A two-mile-long road seperated him from the rest of the subdivision, making him appear just as unsociable and standoffish as he wished to be. The neighborhood was bustling with jaunty people. Daniel thought the look of it was disgusting, and he almost threw up on the table.

“What can I say? I’m a doomsayer who loves to play with warning signs.” He pulled a 2X2 wooden plank from his desk, using a piece of charcoal to outline some phrase that he guessed Sarah couldn’t read yet. “By the way, your tire pressure’s off and you need an oil change.”

Sarah groaned, unable to withstand his negativity any longer. “Do you have anything you’re grateful for?”

“Yeah?” Daniel said, acting as if it were a question, setting down his charcoal for a moment. “I got a house far away from people, and I got my warning signs. I’m thankful for how God made me—with this inordinate hatred for humanity.”

“There are so many things wrong with what you just said…,” Sarah breathed, running a hand over her face. Then, she tried a different approach. “Your distance from the neighborhood makes you have to walk two miles every morning to get your mail, not to mention you have to do it again when you walk back. Your mailbox is at the end of the road. Isn’t that a little exhausting?”

“It’s better than talking to a…a people. A mail people, to be clear.” Daniel continued to scribble, his fingers aching from the amount of signs he had written that day alone. The letters on the wood were messy and, frankly, looked like the handwriting of a four-year-old given a crayon. But the words were plain as a tree in the middle of a field with no hills or anything. “Besides, I just buckle my Fitbit every morning, and my ten thousand steps are done by the time I get home. It always works. Just like my warning signs….” Quite proud of his design, he held up the wood, displaying it for Sarah. “Ta-daaaaa!”

Sarah’s brows beetled as she read, “My bark is a forwarning of my bite…?” She slammed her hands onto the table, causing Daniel to jump. He tried to conceal his shock at her suddenness by checking his watch. His sandy hair fell over his eyes, and he combed it back. “Okay!” Sarah exclaimed. “We need to do something about this. Your property is already a porcupine of these things.”

“I know, adorable, right? What we need to do is put this particular beauty up by the mailbox. It’ll scare Jimmy when he delivers my packet of bear spray….” He rubbed his hands together mischievously. “Oh! Watch this, watch this!” He scribbled an additional phrase onto the wood. It read: “Don’t turn around….” Daniel chuckled like a supervillain, chafing his palms as if they were itchy (but they weren’t). “Oh! He’s gonna wet his pants so hard they’ll have to replace his uniform!”

Sarah thought hard. This man was ruining his life simply because he wished to be an unredeemable cynic. She needed a way to bring out his grateful side. She needed a way to convince him that perhaps—perhaps he could hold gratitude in his heart. An idea came upon her, and Daniel could see it written all over her expression. It was as if somebody had written, “I have an idea!” on her face with ink.

Daniel gulped multiple times, awaiting when she would speak. Then he got sick of gulping, so he stopped. “Alright, what are you planning?” he asked. “Are you planning to make me do work? Nooooo! I don’t wanna, and you can’t make me.” He crossed his arms so hard that he bruised his shoulders, but he pretended not to care.

“No,” said Sarah, “I’m not asking you to… Well, maybe I’m asking you to do a little bit of work. But there’s no homework involved.”

“Well, that makes it better,” said Daniel, itching his eye with his knuckles. “The only thing worse than homework is the people who give it. Ha!”

As Sarah was a middle-school teacher, this jab felt particularly pointed. “Just like the only thing worse than warning signs is the people who write them?”

Daniel’s face fell like someone dropping a bouncing ball. But, just as a bouncing ball comes back up, so did Daniel’s face. “Alright, alright, alright. What’s the stupid work? I want to get it over with so I can go yell at someone on instagram.”

Sarah inhaled sharply through clenched teeth. “I think…that you should write a…gratitude journal. Just a little one.”

Daniel’s face turned red as a carrot dipped in red paint, and he suddenly wanted to throw up—but not just on anything, on Sarah. “You’re asking me to…to write down things that I’m grateful for?” he asked incredulously. “Who do you think I am? Some kind of Barbie character who just looooves writing down his feelings? Yeah, no can do. I won’t be subjected to this torture.”

“It’s not torture,” Sarah objected. “It’s just a journal, and it’s healthy.”

Daniel paused. “Am I imagining things I hate, or did you put ‘journal’ and ‘healthy’ into the same sentence?”

“Come on, Daniel! Will you do it for me? I promise, if you hate it, I will never ever bring up how excessive your warning signs are again.”

Daniel eyed her from behind strands of hair that now obscured his face. Indecision tore away at him like an angry bear with rabies trying to eat the steak in his pocket. Sarah would never judge him again if he just wrote this gratitude journal? Huh, he thought. Maybe it’ll be worth it. “Fine!” he announced with a clap of his hands. “Fine, I’ll do it. But I don’t want you here while I do it. I’ll email you the list next week because I doubt I’ll want to see you.”

“Okay,” Sarah replied, standing and retrieving her coat from the back of her chair. She tried to hide her excitement by maintaining a neutral countenance. “So, good luck.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Luck doesn’t exist. Do you know why that is? Because somebody must have misspelled ‘suck’ all those years ago, and it became a thing.”

Sarah went to leave, but Daniel called out to her. “Hey, can you tell Brett I hate how he cut his beard?”

“Nope. See you next week, Daniel.”

“Ugh. See you never!” Sarah shut the door, and Daniel sniggered. He didn’t regret his childish display at all. Frankly, it made him feel awesome.

“Okay, you stupid journal. Let’s get you over with….” After retrieving a notebook and some paper, Daniel seated himself at his desk. A computer sat next to him, the screen luminous in the dim light of his office. The urge to use ChatGPT was significant, but he couldn’t imagine how Sarah would react if she found out. Consequences are just the worst! he thought. Almost as bad as responsibility.

Then he began writing in his journal.

I am so grateful that Sarah met me this morning for coffee and then RUINED MY LIFE!!

—Daniel, Wednesday, 2:37 P.M. 2018

He liked that one. It was his favorite so far. Then he realized that he hadn’t written any others, so he scowled and took to writing again.

I am so grateful that I am the best person in town.

—Daniel, Wednesday, 2:39 P.M. 2018

I am so grateful that people suck so that I don’t have to be around them.

—Daniel Wednesday, 2:43 P.M. 2018

I am thankful for my two-mile road, which always makes people run out of breath when they reach my house. They can’t talk to me then….

—Daniel, Wednesday, 4:01 P.M. 2018

I am so handsome and awesome. For this, I am forever indebted to me and my awesome looks. I could not repay me with thou jewels or gold.

—Daniel, who sounds a lot like a cooler Tolkien right now. Thursday, 3:03 A.M. 2018

I am grateful that Superman wishes he could be me.

—Daniel, Thursday, 11:30 A.M. 2018

I suppose I didn’t hate the rage break I took ten minutes ago. I’m only sticking THANK YOU in here so the journal stays a ‘gratitude journal.’

—Daniel, Thursday, 11:52 A.M. 2018

I suppose Sarah doesn’t suck that bad. I am grateful she’s not Wendy.

—Daniel, Thursday, 12:43 P.M. 2018

I am grateful that my fingers aren’t bleeding.

—Daniel, Thursday, 12:44 P.M. 2018

I am thankful my house is not going to explo

I am thankful that I remembered to turn off the gasoline on the stove just now before starting a fire in the living room.

—Daniel, Thursday, 5:30 P.M. 2018

I suppose I’m grateful for Sarah right now. But only because if she hadn’t requested this, I would have been forced to listen to her complain about my warning signs.

—Daniel, Friday, 7:36 A.M. 2018

I drank a cup of coffee just now. I’m grateful for the serenity it brought. Excuse me. What I meant was I’m grateful that it didn’t burn my tongue.

—Daniel, Friday, 7:51 A.M. 2018

A kid stopped by just now on his bike; he was irritating, saying that his parents wanted him to ‘drop in’ and ‘see how I was doing after my rough time.’ Then, he took a box of vanilla latte K-cups out of a basket and handed it to me. Of course, I don’t like vanilla, but how could I say ‘no’? I bid him a good day, and he left. I don’t know why, but I think I’m grateful for this.

—Daniel, Friday, 2:39 P.M. 2018

Today is a Saturday. I’m grateful for this, but I’m also grateful I can work from home on a normal basis.

—Daniel, Saturday, 9:43 P.M. 2018

Daniel read the notes over and over, confusion filling him like somebody would fill up a tote with water for a thirsty baby cow. Was he…actually writing things down that he was grateful for? No! Of course not. This was only so that Sarah wouldn’t judge him next Wednesday. Yeah, of course, that was the reason!

He rocked back in his chair, humming, “O’ Come All Ye Faithful.” Then he remembered it wasn’t Christmas time, so he stopped. Then he started singing “In Summer” from Frozen. Again, he stopped, as it wasn’t Summer.

His phone suddenly began to vibrate, lighting up with a picture of Billy Bobson Bones, his…not so awesome neighbor. He relished the thought of pushing the red button, and it almost made him laugh, but then he realized, What if he needs my help?

Hm…, Daniel thought. Maybe I’m becoming less of a cynic…. Maybe…I’m starting to like people!!

He answered the phone, holding it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Hello, Daniel!” Billy exclaimed through the phone. “How are you doing?!”

Daniel suddenly regretted answering the phone. “Fine. I was just trying to have some quiet time to myself.” He hoped this passive-aggressive message would come across fine.

It didn’t.

“Oh, okay. Hey! I was just wondering if you wanted to come over and have a party tonight! Everyone will be there, and we’ll all talk for hours and hours! Then we can carpool and laugh while we drive home! What do you say?!”

Daniel hung up. Nope, he thought. Still hate people….

He took to writing his journal again, noticing that it actually brought a candle of light to his day—it showed him how to be grateful. Which, after the past couple of days, he realized didn’t always come naturally. Oftentimes, it was a skill. His notes became more and more legit with each passing day.

And then Wednesday arrived.

A knock sounded at the door, startling Daniel and waking him from sleep. He had slept in until four in the afternoon that day since he had gone to sleep at five in the morning. His office chair wasn’t very comfortable. Frankly, he hated it and despised it and wanted to throw it into the fireplace. The thought of it was so satisfying that he followed through with the plan before answering the knock.

Sarah was revealed as the door creaked open, and Daniel felt like shriveling like a flower given syrup instead of water. He didn’t want to admit that her tactic worked because it made him feel wrong. Being wrong was almost as bad as being responsible. Nevertheless, he spoke first. “Hello. Wanna come in?”

Sarah nodded, smiling, then walked through the threshold. “So,” she said, wringing her hands, “did it work?”

Daniel thought his eyes were gonna fall out because of how tired he was. He didn’t feel like answering questions. He wanted to eat first. “I’ll talk,” he slurred. “But I want breakfast first.” He wobbled to the kitchen, where he began pouring himself cereal. “You want some?”

“Breakfast?” Sarah asked, giving her watch a quick glance.

“Yup. You woke me up when you knocked. Again, you want some?” He shook the cereal box, resulting in a sound similar to LEGOs.

“No, I’m good,” Sarah replied. “I just…ate lunch three hours ago.”

“Oh. That’s cool. That very, very…” He yawned, then forgot what he was going to say, so he didn’t say it.

After Daniel finished his cereal—and seven large cups of espresso—he began to talk. “Your idea…worked!” It took great labor to force out the last word, and he nearly lost everything he ate.

Sarah’s eyes widened in shock, but then she cleared her throat, looking more composed. “It…it did?”

Daniel nodded. He thought he was gonna pass out, and so he did. But he woke up right after he hit the ground, though. He and Sarah talked for a few minutes about his notes and what they did for him. Gradually, Daniel stopped hating being wrong about this situation, accepting that perhaps Sarah was just trying to help.

“I’m so glad it worked!” Sarah exclaimed, then hugged him. “I just wanted you to be happy.”

Daniel’s face became surprised as if he’d just woken up to the Easter Bunny putting eggs around the house. “Oh,” he said. “I thought you were just trying to make me suffer.”

Sarah chuckled. “No. You were just such a grump I thought you could use some gratitude in your life. It’s a natural remedy, every time.”

“Oh. Thanks. I guess…I guess it worked.”

Sarah pulled away from him and then sniffed the air, her face puckering. “Is something burning?”

Daniel nodded, his face impassive. “Yeah. I threw my office chair into the fire a little while ago.”

***

Daniel had to buy a new house after the epic fire calamity. But he didn’t mind. Everything turned out quite well for him, and overall, he became a happier person. He even went as far as to move his house a whole mile closer to the neighborhood and take down fifty percent of his warning signs. He took up a hobby of signing—although he sounded like a parrot imitating a 90’s rock band—and even published three and a half albums.

He and Sarah’s friendship lived on, thriving now that he had accepted gratitude as a part of his daily routine. And although Sarah told him he didn’t have to, Daniel continued writing in his gratitude journal every day.

He was happy. He saw the joy in being thankful; he saw how good people could be. Daniel had been wrong in the past, and he accepted that fact with no malice or anger. 

However, that didn’t mean that he liked petty get-togethers or even hanging out with people. Although his outlook on life had changed, he was still Daniel. And Daniel he would stay for all of eternity….

***

I am very grateful for the light that Sarah has brought to my life. Without it, I would have remained just as miserable as I have always been. This gratitude has provided me with a life I would never have even dreamed of before. I thank you, Sarah for enduring with me and my rotten attitude.

—Daniel, hanging out with Sarah and Brett. Friday, 9:36 P.M. 2020