November 28

It's funny: to me, it doesn't feel like it's late enough in the year to be Thanksgiving, yet somehow, it is. We began our day with football and bread-baking, and then Adam and I took a brisk walk around the neighborhood before we all got dressed for dinner and left for his parents' house at 2:15.

There was turkey and stuffing, salad and bread --four types, courtesy of my bread-master husband--, mashed potatoes and pie. There were kids running around like tiny madmen and adults who hadn't seen one another in 'oh gosh, has it really been so long?' catching up on life. And a blessing that remembered Logan and Adam's Granddad, who are both gone from the physical world but very much alive in our memories.

It was, to put it simply, a nice day. A pleasant day. A mostly quiet day. A day without tears, which seven years ago --as I struggled to simply breathe through our first Thanksgiving without our Sunshine-- I considered an impossibility. And for all of that I'm thankful.