It’s Thanksgiving and I wish I could be a kid again.

It’s Thanksgiving and I woke this morning thinking about my Grandma.  Sometimes it’s hard to find the spirit of the holidays when you have lost your center—the center of your family—your mother, your grandmother, your heart.

Growing up, holidays were about going to Grandma’s house.  They were the best days of the year.  Your little heart was so filled with such gladness as you dressed in your new clothes, anxious to get to Grandma’s.

Is there anything better than walking into a small house filled with people who love you?  Oh, the smells…turkey, ham, and pie (with cool-whip.)  My Gram would make lemon and orange meringue pie with really high peaks.  The adults would sit around the big table and munch on mixed nuts and chocolates, while us kids would sit on the stairs and talk about who knows what.

My Gram has been gone 20 years now and I lost my Mammaw this past spring.  It’s hard not to think of them today, but I am so lucky to have my Mother and Father with me.  They have always been my center and I am truly blessed.


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