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Follow The Wandering Introvert on

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My baby’s warm, humid breath that smells vaguely of yogurt; pillow-cheeks under my kiss; his laughter, which has made me so much more that I knew I could be. 

The foghorn on the ocean, reassuring and steady. 

Looking up at a sky filled with stars, becoming dizzy just trying to keep a single one in my sight. 

The six adults who have been my rock during the pandemic. 

My dogs: my constant companions, my ready celebrators, my ever-forgiverers, my – in so many ways – dearest friends. A hundred combined pounds of pure and total love. 

The tall, sweet man who has surprised me with his heart. 

Sitting under a tree, a latte by my side, a friend two seats over, writing. 

My nephews: so loved, so small and so big, so very close to my heart.

The unexpected ways that family forms and reforms and invites people to stay for a lifetime. 

This moment: pie in the oven, radio on, loved ones safe, the sound of a foghorn and my waking son unfurling the day before me. 

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone. 

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