I’m chopping up celery and onion and drooling over the thought of stuffing.
I’m loving my family and thinking I don’t deserve such special people.
I’m feeling good-sore from cleaning for hours yesterday and rejoicing that the grime and dust bunnies are gone.
I’m dancing with a chef’s knife in the kitchen (yes, I’ll be careful) and laughing that I still don’t have rhythm.
I’m burning a candle and imagining it smells like a good-looking man in a flannel shirt, a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, who's reaching for the grater to zest an orange.
I’m dreaming of Christmas and smiling that someone gave us a ten-foot-tall pre-lit tree to enjoy (that we’ll put up tomorrow.)
And I’m contemplating the sacrifice of thanksgiving and offering up God-praise for every last thing, hard or soft.
Happy Thanksgiving to you!
