It’s Thanksgiving.
That stirs old memories. Times of friends long gone, times of family long gone, times of communities long gone.
It tastes of sorrow and of loss. It’s a longing for another breath in one of those memories.
Those memories patina with age. Some parts are dulled, others shine.
Most are forgotten. Those offer only the smoke of what once was. A ghostly silhouette.
Gratitude is someone I’ve always struggled with. I know, through experience and through fact, that it is the antidote to so much suffering.
Still it is hard to feel. Still it is hard to embrace.
But there is always now. You always have now. You only ever had now.
So you look for it.
Maybe you can find it in the scent of warm sweet potato pie.
Maybe you can find it in the eyes of a new friend around the table.
Maybe you can find it in warm clothes, warm food, warm hearts.