We’re not celebrating Thanksgiving until the weekend; the children were in school, our friends are working, Stella and Al are taking turns going down to London.
Tonight I cooked a big pot of soup and wondered what the people back home are doing. I stopped attending extended family holidays after my grandmother died in 1994. Since it wasn’t fair to spend the time with in-laws if I wasn’t going to see my own mother, the boycott became comprehensive.
When I moved away I didn’t know if I would regret all those dinners I refused to attend. I took my children not to a new world, but the old one, and somehow this makes sense right now. This is a beautiful small city. I have my kids my work, my bicycle, my boat.
Thanksgiving has always been about friends. It is amazing that some of them flew all the way across the world to be with us.
Stella always asks what we’re thankful for, and it is a good question.
What is the most important thing? I am profoundly thankful to live in a place where everyone is entitled to health care.