Grateful for a Full Stomach

I am grateful for a full stomach; that my plate is full; that nourishment comes easy; that I can fall asleep without the pangs of hunger. I do not know famine. I do not know what it’s like to ration, to save food to prevent starvation. I’ve never gone to sleep, not knowing when or if I would eat again. I have never thought of feeding myself as a primary objective, but rather as a medium for pleasure and energy. The word starve is mere hyperbole to me. My ancestors—hell, even many people alive today—couldn’t say the same.

This gratitude is more than having a full belly. I’m grateful that I have peace of mind; that food security enables clean cognition. I’m thankful that I have not been driven to violence or meanness by hunger; that I don’t know what it’s like to contemplate crime to keep myself from the punishment of hunger. I am grateful for all the things—too many to list—that I have not experienced as a function of hunger. I am fed and full and can reasonably expect to be so, perhaps as long as I live. I cannot imagine it gets any better than that.

I am grateful for a full stomach.