All day, I’ve tried to think of something to write here, something profound and inspirational, fitting for this moment. At one point, I even got some words typed up, packaged up nicely and ready to post.
Yet before I could, my spinach needed to come out of the oven and my stuffing needed to go in. My puppies needed walking and my weary body needed a break. My family’s faces called from the screen, and my friends’ messages started pouring in.
Nothing about this Thanksgiving is what I would have predicted a year ago. And though I wish some things were different – it has been a long year, and there has been real grief in its days – I am also deeply, deeply grateful for the life I wake up to each morning.
At its best, this holiday – and indeed, the entire season in front of us – is meant for reflection and gratitude. I know that for many people, the pain of 2020 makes that nearly impossible. If you’re reading this, and you’re in that boat, know that I see you; your heartache is important, and worthy of our respect.
But regardless of what this year has been, I do hope that today has brought at least a single moment where something has caught your attention, perhaps taken your breath away: geese, flying overhead; pie, bubbling sweetly; a smile, aimed just for you.
Happy Thanksgiving, from my corner of this world to yours. May you find peace on tomorrow’s wings.
The Wandering Introvert 