For an invitation over lunch, when I told a friend we weren’t sure of our plans: Come have Thanksgiving with us.
For a heater that got repaired before the freak Nov. 15 snow and the Thanksgiving cold snap.
For a long run on Wednesday morning with a friend down the trail I love so much, legs pumping and breath puffing, wind and sea and sky.
For the sweet potato recipe I’ve been making for nearly 15 years, in Oxford and Abilene and Boston, which tastes like Thanksgiving to me.
For a walk with the hubs on Wednesday afternoon, down the trail (in the other direction) to the local ice cream shop before it closed for the season.
For sunshine on Thanksgiving morning and a warm welcome in East Boston.
For eggs baked in tortilla cups and mimosas at Steve and Chrissy’s, the kids toasting with sparkling apple juice and Christian stalking around in his Grim Reaper costume.
For a moment alone in Lauryn’s kitchen, stirring the gravy and taking a deep breath.
For the hilarity that ensued later when we could barely get the cranberry sauce out of the can. (We had homemade, too, but someone requested the traditional log.)
For turkey and ham, both carved by my husband; for homemade stuffing and green beans wrapped in bacon; for hot rolls and mashed potatoes and Waldorf salad.
For two long tables in Joe and Lauryn’s living room, football on in the background and the kids running up and down the stairs. For Joe’s invitation to share a bit about the people we love, who bolster us up every day.
For my friend Kelsey’s baby boy, Bennett, born in Texas the night before, healthy and perfect and right on time.
For the breathtaking view over Eastie’s rooftops from Kem and Fabricio’s kitchen window.
For laughter and stories as we all stood around sipping coffee and tea.
For Kem’s delicious dessert spread – seven kinds of pie! – and a bowl of freshly made whipped cream.
For the chance to be welcomed and to welcome others.
If you celebrated, I hope you had a lovely Thanksgiving.
