I love Thanksgiving. I love the gathering of family and friends. Our house bulges with both, and the tables (yes, plural) groan with food options. There is laughter, joking, and memories are made. I feel extremely blessed. Also, extremely tired, but I digress.
What I thought on this year though were a couple of random things. I thought about how we are sort of at a crossroads. I don't know that next year Rob will be with us for Thanksgiving. He might be,and he is always welcome. But I think that it is also possible that he may be elsewhere, spreading the wings he has been fledging these past few years of college. I may be cutting the carrots and potatos myself next year--missing his smile, quiet helpful demeanor and oh goddess, his speedy knife skills.
My father in law and my mom are aging. It was a huge relief this year to see that Dad seemed better than when we got together this summer. His recent cataract surgery has had an amazing success on his vision and he barely needs glasses now. His energy seems better and I hope for many many more Thanksgivings with him, but you never know. My mom is the same age and she too is slowing a bit. She has health issues that have begun to impact her abilities and this is troubling to her and frightening to me.
And at a wider level, as I sat in abundance, I was reminded that this is not a day of rejoicing for the native population of our country. And today, right now, we are again perpetuating injustice against the native population. How can we even think about something as toxic as the Dakota Access PipeLine? How can we allow water cannons to douse protestors in freezing temperatures? How is it that we seem unable to learn from past mistakes and continue to perpetuate the same unfair treatment?
So today, yes I celebrated. But I celebrated not that first Thanksgiving. I celebrated family. I celebrated friends, and the strength of love.