After dinner, after the dishes are washed and put away, after the movie has been watched and we are too tired to go on… I’ll sit down and attempt to convey some sentiment… or feeling of gratitude… because it is Thanksgiving eve, after all.
It was suggested that I not write about how difficult it is to write…because I’ve done that twice already this month. But maybe something along the lines of a free association poem or story might be good. Or maybe a line or two about what it feel likes to be a guest at Thanksgiving, instead of the host.
All good ideas…but not what I’m thinking about.
So now I’m in the kitchen where its quiet(er)…this house is very quiet. Everyone is ready for bed. The feeling of fatigue is as heavy as our eyelids. We have three more days together… to say everything we need to say. Without repeating our stories. (I’m the one who repeats the stories…the rest of them have interesting, ever changing lives… or they have lots of secrets they are now willing to share). Three days will be enough for them. It’s not nearly enough time for me.
But for now, we will just be still. And we will think about sleep. And be grateful for this lovely, warm house filled with some other families’ memories. We will head up the stairs and tuck into bed. Someone else’s bed. And be thankful for this time and place.