Thanksgiving is next week and I'm thankful for many things. One. I have a place to go on this, my favorite holiday. Thank you, dear friends, who take me in year after year. Except that one year; I thought I should perhaps be independent and prove to myself and them or someone that I had other places to be, in case anyone got tired of seeing my face on Turkey Day. So I took myself off to Florida and spent the holiday alone, shivering on cold beaches, fearing alligators and robbers. I went to a sad aquarium and a pretty historical village. Once was enough and I'm back with my friends. Their home is big and warm, with baskets hanging from the ceiling and the sun shining in through a window wall of glossy green plants. There are dogs, cats, babies, and adults of all ages. There is live music: harp, bagpipes, and flute. Football is on the big screen, hard bulbous heads and a silent dance of tight colorful uniforms against an impossible green. All the food is homemade and it is a traditional Thanksgiving menu. There are more pies than people. And the people are dear friends with interesting things to say and smiles for me.
Two. Grandsons.
Three. Nature. I like quick easy hikes with great views. I like to walk on a Maine beach even when it's cold and verdigris waves spit ice crystals. I like my own backyard, full of mysterious creatures and tiny ecosystems.
Three seems like a lot for which to be thankful.
