There will be faces missing at the table, which will make my heart ache a little. Not the "couldn't make it this year" faces, but the "See you when you get to Heaven" faces. I hope they are all saving me a seat at their table. Himself's father will be here, but we will wend our way to the nursing home to see his mother at some point later in the day, even though she won't know we're there in all probability. But his sister and her family will crowd round the table, and Son Number One's wonderful violin teacher from elementary school and beyond will join us, and it's all good.
There will be no trips to the mall for the big sale. We will boycott any store that stays open on Thanksgiving. We are in danger of losing something very precious in this country, and the opening of stores on family holidays is just one symptom of it. And the boycott will be permanent. I won't set a foot in Macy's or K-Mart, Walmart, or Kohl's or Target's again. At least not until they change their anti-family policies. There are other places to buy gifts. Local shops and owner-run boutiques abound and they could certainly use the business. And I'm backing off gift giving in general this year anyway. I've gotten to the point where I don't want things. I want time. Time with my family, time to think, time to write, time to meditate, time to be grateful.
We will all join hands around the table and we won't let the priest say the grace because he's on vacation, and I have a perfectly good relationship with the Deity myself. We talk all day long, every day, and tomorrow won't be any different. So blessings to you all on this pause in the chaos when we stop to appreciate what we already have. Don't buy into the madness. Take a breath and cherish the moment.