My husband circa 1979
How traditions come to be...
The first year I joined El’s family in Atlanta for Thanksgiving, I stayed up late baking pumpkin bread the night before leaving Miami. On the way to drop off Trix for boarding before heading to the airport, I stopped for gas. It only took a few seconds for Trix to sniff out the bread and eat half of it. I wanted so badly to impress El’s family (especially his mother), and I showed up empty-handed with nothing but a story about my badly-behaved dog.
I make pumpkin bread every Thanksgiving now, and we always talk about how Trix ate that first loaf.
Tell me a Thanksgiving tradition story of yours?
I am learning that sometimes the greatest way you can show someone you love them is just to listen and bear witness to their words of grief, sorrow, and pain. To wait in the background, meditating and praying, until they reach for your hand. It is extremely hard to do. We dont want to see our loved ones hurting, wewant to help them pick up the pieces and put everything back together. Healing takes time, and being able to sit in that ugliness near or with them is the most powerful gift of love I know.
Beautiful words, B.
Recommendation
for vineyard touring in Paso Robles: The Wine Line. For $40 per person you’ve got a sober driver for the day and can visit any of a long list of wineries. They drop you off and pick you up forty minutes later, and if you want more time they come back when you’re ready. They also tag your purchases and keep them in a cooler for you until the end of the day.
