Thank you," I told my not-quite-two year old this morning when she put her PJ's in the hamper. "Thanks so much," I told the cashier last night when she handed me change. "Thanks," I told the stranger holding the elevator doors.
I've said thank you thousands of times. Sometimes I think about it. Sometimes I don't, the meaning diluted by rules of society. "Thank you" becomes rote--a subconscious reaction rather than a thoughtful expression of gratitude.
Today, I say thank you, not as a diluted, rote reaction but as a concentrated, heartfelt expression of my gratitude.
To all of you who have helped me prepare for hearings, chased me down the halls with forgotten papers, stayed late to help with mass mailings, and made it your job to make my job a little easier, Thank You.
To all of you who trained me, who taught me the local rules--written and unwritten-- who counseled me on law and life, Thank You. From the outside, you appeared to be my supervising attorney, my boss, or (on really good days) my colleague. You have been so much more. You've been my mentors, my advisors, my trusted confidants. You did more than teach me legal procedure and brief writing. You taught me professional courtesies. You introduced me to the judges, their clerks, and bailiffs; and you taught me that relationships in the practice of law are worth more than any letter, brief, or pleading could capture. For all of those times your door remained open, Thank You. And, for all of those times that your door was closed, only to be opened, documents set aside, and phone calls left unanswered, Thank You.
To all of you who welcomed me to the lunch table, who shared stories, recipes, and the occasional slice of cake, Thank You.
To all of you that I've been fortunate enough to call friends, Thank You. You've welcomed my babies into your offices. You've written encouraging notes. You've listened, laughed, sympathized, and empathized. We've spent countless hours discussing the practice and practicalities of law, life, love, and everything in between. You are the reason I managed to hang onto private practice as long as I did. Thank You.
To my mom, you made me practice the violin--every single day. I hated it until I loved it, and along the way I learned that it takes time--lots of time--to really know what you love and what you don't love. Thank you. You taught me that it doesn't cost a million dollars to look like a million bucks. Your chicken noodles were the key to my college success. And you always know exactly when to tell me that I'm smart, or pretty, a good lawyer, or a good mom. Thank you.
To my dad, you drove 100 miles in a snowstorm to pick me up so that I could spend one night at home, keeping a homesick freshman from quitting a full ride scholarship in lieu of home cooking every night. Thank you. You taught me to be true to myself and to never compromise my own code of ethics--no matter how ridiculous it may seem sometimes. And, after 20 years of preaching, I think I finally understand how important it is to check the air in my tires, the oil in my engine, and the compass of my heart. Thank you.
To my husband, you recognized what I couldn't see, and you encouraged me to make life work with me instead of against me. Thank you. You continue to keep your days in .1's so that I can pick up our babies from school, snuggle away tummy aches, and create childhood memories that won't belong to a nanny. Thank you.
Nine years ago, I stood facing the reception desk. I was terrified of what private practice had in store for me and awed at the mighty "Crowe & Dunlevy." I resolved that I would never leave this Firm. But, times change; priorities change. And for now, there is only one thing left for me to say: Thank you.
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