I'm sitting here, drinking a glass of wine and watching the Food Network, while my family sleeps upstairs. I should be happy: it's Thanksgiving weekend, so we have three days off work and no plans. But that's the problem: it's Thanksgiving weekend. And we have no plans.
The thing is, my mother was always the architect of our family holidays. She was always the one who would invite everyone over for dinner—no matter how many of us there were or how much work it would be. She was an amazing cook and a gracious host. She did it all, and she made it look easy.
Me? I have two young children and a full-time job. And I suck at cooking. This family planning thing—it's not my forte.
On days like this, I miss my mom.
I miss the way she brought everyone together—whether we wanted to be or not—and reminded us that however different we may be, we are still family. We share the same blood, that common bond. I miss the laughter, the relaxed banter, the freedom of belonging.
I miss the feeling of being more than just me.
So, this Thanksgiving, I want to focus on what I do have. On my kind and generous husband. On the beautiful, smart girls who will carry on my bloodline. On my family that still remains.
And give thanks. For everything.