Last night we celebrated Thanksgiving. No we are not American, but for the first time ever, it felt like a perfectly normal time to celebrate this holiday and celebrate the first flurry fall. My daughter helped my husband make the supper and she also took great care to decorate for the event. We moved the table into the living room and fancied things up. It was everything a fancy dinner should be: delicious, candlelit, eaten in pyjamas and full of conversations about all the other fancy meals we've had. Last Christmas we braved eating duck and the kids had great fun thinking up other options: sushi, geese (plural), bear and moose and cow.
I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.
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