i'm thankful for the condensed dew on our bedroom window, which blurs the world outside. i'm thankful that it is not simply a blur, though, but also a texture, a pointillism of water embossing the glass. i'm thankful that the patterns are not perfectly even, but vary. i'm thankful for the spaces in the center of the upper pane where enough dew gathered that it formed some kind of critical mass and became, instead of a static pattern, a dewdrop that rolled down the window, leaving a clear streak in its path.