Thinking About My Mom
Thanksgiving—The Sequel

Thanksgiving—The Prequel

This morning when I woke up, all my most-loved ones were in my house. This only happens once a year. So I savor every moment.

I thought I was the first person to get up, so I quietly headed down to the basement to do my morning exercises. It turned out that our younger son Jeremy was already up, and he decided to join me. Normally, my companion is the newspaper. This morning, it was Jeremy and I chatting away, he on the elliptical trainer and me on the stationery bicycle as if we did this all the time. A very precious thirty minutes.

When we came up, everyone but Seth was awake and at the breakfast table—the grandkids with their specially-bought sweetened (but not too sweet) cereals, and the rest of us grabbing various parts of the newspapers along with whatever our normal breakfast is. The noise at breakfast, not too common around here when it's just Peter and me, is a delightful change.

The day flies by; the kids go out to see friends they've know since elementary school, 25 years ago. Grady, the younger of our two grandsons, naps when they return and we have some quiet time with his older brother. There are a lot of conversations that are extensions of the hurried telephone chats we have while the kids are busy in their own lives.

We have a glass of wine before dinner, and I anticipate a day of cooking and eating too much tomorrow. I love every minute of it.




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