Our first Thanksgiving in the new house and we are as we should be…stuffed, exhausted and in a food coma. We laughed, we ate, we laughed some more. We ate some more. I was so worried about what this holiday season would bring. My focus was on whether or not I could provide for my children a holiday experience that would not stray too far from what they expected. One that was full of food, family and fun. My greatest fear was that what I could provide couldn’t compare to what my ex and his tight knit family could.
I picked up the kids this morning and we went to Shirley’s house. She is one of few people in my life that completely blurs the lines between friend and family. Her house was warm and smelled of yummy goodness. We worked together (okay…she worked magic and I washed pots) to put an amazing dinner on the table. It felt good to be there. My kids had an amazing day. I felt loved.
We came home, and I was thinking that the day would wind down quietly. My landlords from downstairs had their family there. A gregarious Italian family from Italy that believes the definition of family is anyone who sits at your table. They brought us in and the holiday continued. We left feeling like we were no longer the tenants upstairs but rather a welcomed presence in the home.
Coming back upstairs, I was now content to wrap up a great day. I told the kids to put on pajamas and I went into the kitchen to put away the food that Shirley had sent along with us. When I turned around I saw the box that came yesterday which contained gifts and warm wishes from Paula and Sharon in San Francisco. Yet another reminder of what I have to give thanks for. So, beginning this holiday season, I now believe that what I bring to my children – in love, friendship and family – is certainly something to be celebrated and has as much value as any past experience they have.
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