Around the world there seems to be a cloud of sorrow as we celebrate this day. Nothing more than a made-up holiday to give thanks and gratitude. It usually ends up becoming a stress inducing battle royale between moms and sons, fathers and daughters. But as the wind blows out of the northeast, I catch a hint of lavender from the wash. As my son fights the wind to rake fallen leaves away from the porch.
There will be no big family get together here. No different than any other year. After the girls moved away, they started there own traditions with other people in other places. Others may scoff that we have no sense of family. But I suppose I have only me to blame for that. Still the boys are here, and Lisa isn’t going anywhere. I’m thinking about taking a trip, but my old fears of travel now possess my brain. I often wish someone would carry this burden for a while. But realistically I know, some things are just yours to bare alone.