My whole childhood, I never had it easy. Ma and I were too much a burden for Pa to provide for, so only God knows his whereabouts. For as long as I can remember, it had just been the two of us. We were sharecroppers in Oklahoma, but our farm was struggling due to the drought, on top of the Dust Bowl, on top of the Great Depression. Our farm was suffering, and we found ourselves in danger of losing it and having to move away to the west. I was adamantly against the idea of doing that. Ma had been drilling the whole “gratitude is important” mindset into my head, but I was having none of it. Our situation far stretched past any possibility of gratitude on my end.

            One early morning, Ma’s voice sounded, and the one and only conversation it took to flip the entirety of my world upside down took place. This conversation would stick inside my head in what would undoubtedly be the ugliest echo I had ever heard. Like a bad aftertaste, one could say. Although multitudes more than that. An aftertaste that would rot the throat enduring its presence. An aftertaste that would make its victim lose his breath. That would be so repulsive, its victim would not want to breathe. Losing breath and taste altogether would be the gift they would yearn for. I heard the loud call purposed in winning over my attention.

Yes Ma? I beg of you, not the news we has been worryin’ ‘bout!

Ma had a delayed response. A delayed worded response, that is. Not even a mere nod proved itself necessary. Just a simple look into my troubled eyes was enough to sink my heart in what seemed like the drop of miles down. A ‘no!’ croaked from one side of  my throat to the other, but the croak was so large that the voice behind it was hardly audible. All ma noticed was tears melting into  my rapidly staining face. Long seconds passed before she worked up the courage to put words on the situation we were soon to face.

I’m ‘fraid we can’t stay, son. Pack your stuff, we headin’ ‘way to California at dawn. 

Ma? M-ma? Why would you… why? 

We ain’t safe here son! We can’t farm nothin’ with all the dust ‘round! 

What’s it matter if we can’t--

Sharecroppers ain’t able to thrive if they ain’t able to farm!

The room was silent after that. Sobbing into his arm, I went upstairs to pack everything of value to me. His ma not only noticed the sadness on his face, but she decided that acting on it was the best option. 

The only way to get through is to have gratitude!

‘Scuse me Ma? How’s gratitude even possible, havin’ to leave m’ whole life behind?! 

Son, calm. We still livin,’ we still breathin,’ and as long as we’s still livin’ and breathin,’ there’s always a good reason for gratitude. 

With that, I ran upstairs, trying to blank the thoughts out of my head,  leaving the advice from my mother in the dust. 

As promised, we had the car loaded up at dawn and left without delay. 

 I was more troubled than I had ever been. 

Why do we have to do this, ma?!

Hard journey ahead, I ain’t denyin’ it, boy. But we’re gon’ have to if we want any bit of success an’ prosperity in this life. 

* * *

Three Weeks Later:

How’s that gratitude thing workin’ out, ma? 

Son, I am fully aware that we ain’t so lucky with the situation, far as me findin’ work, far as us havin’ the gas we need right away, food may be runnin’ lower, but that ain’t to say that things may not look back up in the days, perhaps weeks to come.

 I dreadfully braced myself for the words that I knew I would hear out of my mother, but really did not want to. As she went off, I rolled my eyes as far as they would go. 

We still livin,’ we still breathin,’ and as long as we’s still livin’ and breathin,’ there’s always a good reason for gratitude!

* * *

From that point forward, nothing was getting easier. While we both made it to California alive, it was evident that we could never have prepared ourselves for the hardships that were inevitably to come. The hostility that arrived at our feet was so far beyond what we expected. I was constantly voicing his concern over the matter, much to ma’s annoyance. 

What could we have done to be hated like this, Ma??

Sometimes, a better life comes with some difficulty. All worth it in the end, son. 

Let me know when that happens, when it’s all worth it. I’ll wait. I’ll patiently wait. Don’t be wastin’ no breath sayin’ nothin’ ‘bout gratitude right now. 

Eventually, it all caught up to us. The better life they had been looking for was out of sight. The hostility and unwillingness to assist amongst all the Californians  we came into contact with came with a detrimental consequence to us. Ma and I found ourselves starving three months into being in California, a major blow in an already-familiar series of failure after failure. 

Frail as ever, Ma and I found ourselves inside a barn we figured we would just die in together. Voice croaking, she began speaking.

We may not be livin’ soon, we may not be breathin’ soon, but I’d like to believe that after this life, there’s always a good reason for gratitude. We can hope upon a miracle, but either way, there’s- a-always a g-good reason... for gr-gr-ratitude.

 We started closing our eyes in what we believed would be our last ever blink-when we heard a noise. A yelling noise that sounded like the yell of a middle aged man. 

Rose of Sharon, what are you doing?!

There’s two more in the barn, I must take care of ‘em!

With this, I felt a ray of hope shine through me for the very first time since this moving process first began. I began to take on the perspective that even if it was to be my dying moment, I could die knowing that someone out there was willing to help.

And then I woke up. 

Since waking up and realizing the weight of the dream I had just had, nothing has been the same. The fact that there is indeed still hope in the world and goodness in humanity, is plenty enough of a reason for gratitude.