where the writers are The Girl With Gratitude  Gratitude was an
elusive word for me many years ago. I never thought of the word
nor its meaning. Frankly, I didn't give a damn what I had to be
grateful for cause I could not see the blessings in my path. I
was a worn out twenty three year old who had drank and done
drugs for as long as my memory held.   One October day, I walked
into a room it was a store front in Chicago. There were green
painted chairs on the left hand side of the room, and the folded
metal chairs on the right handside were yellow. Green was for
the smokers and Yellow was for those who had given up the
smoking.  I in my misery and confusion of how I had gotten there
sat my ass down in a green chair with a styrofoam cup filled
with swill coffee, and a pack of Marlboros within reach.  For
many years I found myself going to that room, soon the chairs
became all yellow. Very slowly small doses of joy began to
thread threw me, a bounce to the heavy step became a hop and
there was a light that had