Pie Day

Herself speaks.

I... am struggling to find holiday spirit this year.

Perhaps it is because I am so very worn from Year 2 of the Pandemic. So little fun and so few adventures, and so much Avoiding of People and Germs. Perhaps it is the looming projects at Work that must be completed before the end of the year. Perhaps it is the forthcoming travel between Thanksgiving and Christmas. The endless tidying of the lovely bunnies, who are charming pets and who do not give a fig about me except for when I provide greenery or prevent them from destructively chewing on all the Things. 

Or perhaps it is because Offspring the Second is not here -- he is still Adventuring on his own in points Northwest, and I am happy for him that he has spread his wings and is trying new things and new places. He has always been here for Thanksgiving previously, though, I believe; so this would be the first time in over a quarter of a century that he has not been with us. Yesterday when opened the door to his room to put an item in there, I caught sight of the extremely elderly sneakers that he has worn in the house for years and years and years -- he left them here when he went forth on his Adventures. What a pang in the heart. I hope you are doing well, Offspring the Second. I miss you.

And perhaps, too, there is the echo of the few years when Cherished Friend joined us for Thanksgiving. I am happy for him, too, that he is in Oceanside, working to make his aspirations come to life. I miss his proximity, and especially his Thanksgiving kitchen companionship, very much, though. 

I have many things to be thankful for this year: the health and wellness of the people I love; all the necessities of life; a few projects I enjoy on the horizon, that give me Purpose and Meaning. It's a lot. Still, every now and then, I wish for just a tiny bit more. Does that make me ungrateful? Or perhaps it is the gratitude for things I had in the past, that is making me wistful now.

Regardless: at least there is pie.