Last of the Rain

As the last of the rain clouds sweep towards the coast. The load of laundry I started earlier this morning is finally getting hung out. I took Lisa over to our daughter’s for a hot shower then stopped by the store to pick her up a pecan pie. With a steady cool breeze blowing, I’m reminded of other family holidays. While my mind wonders off to friends and loved one suffering due to tragedy. 

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. 
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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.