I just looked back at last year’s Thanksgiving post, and what a happily mushy post it was. I fear this one may get a bit mushy as well, so if that sort of thing annoys or offends you, turn away now…

  I feel a bit more melancholy this year — it seems everyone does.  But late November is really the only time when I find myself missing America and that is because of Thanksgiving.  Tomorrow’s the big day, and I’ll be cooking and eating and drinking and cleaning and complaining throughout.  It will certainly be fun.  But it will be different this year.  This year, Number 2 Son is across the ocean, having the time of his life and his own holiday celebration with all the Guiney aunts, uncles and cousins.  Hubby and I will be here with Number 1 Son and a group of his friends.  That will be great, of course, too. 

But I always miss my family back “home” during Thanksgiving.  My parents, sisters and their families will all be together, and once again, I won’t be there.  And now, we’ll be missing a quarter of our little family unit here as well.  Tomorrow I will focus on how much I have to be thankful for — and it is so very very much.  But today, I’ve allowed myself a bit of a wobble.

So as I was running around doing errands, I slowed down a bit.  I took the time to chat with the nice lady behind the till at the post office.  And then as I was walking out of the building, I ran into a friend who I haven’t seen in, maybe, ten years.  She’s the mother of the boy who became Number 1 Son’s first friend after we moved here.  It was marvelous to see her and trade news, and it made me start to think about the wonders of old friends, how you can slot right back in with someone even if you haven’t seen them in years.  We promised we’d get together soon, and I think we will.  But even if we don’t, the connection remains. 

As I continued on my way, I noticed that the gale-force winds that have been plaguing London these past weeks had simmered down.  And when I looked up, I saw that the sky was actually blue.  Yes, blue — not white or grey or thundery black — blue.  Look, here’s proof:

Amazing.

So I’m feeling a little better, despite my mortal fear of making gravy.  And knowing that my parents will be reading this, as they always do, I wanted to send off something their way especially, knowing that I’ll be missing them and knowing that, just as much, they’ll be missing me.

Happy Memories