I'm up early on this holiday morning. It's a solemn gray day, which feels fitting. I'm not going to say that I'm sad, but my heart certainly is wistful. I'm convinced that's part of the human condition in 2020. I'm not wallowing...just honoring that sorrow that is part of life these days. I'm watching the Macy's parade as I do every year. Although I'm grateful it wasn't cancelled, this spectatorless version is strange. How festive can a parade be without goers? It seems wrong to see the streets of NYC so deserted.
When the rest of the fam gets up, we'll get in our pre-feast exercise. Mike and I will take our annual walk. We won't be ten around my dad's table this year. We were going to be and then Ted was exposed. He's in the clear, but COVID fear is a thing. My parents spent the week preparing their usual feast and we are gathering at my aunt's to swap out contributions and share a holiday toast in the aire libre. I think it's an honorable attempt at making lemonade out of lemons.
I'm grateful I don't have to cook, but most of all that I won't miss this annual meal I so enjoy. Last night Lily helped me prepare the apple crisps without my having to ask. My charge is dessert. Ted was in the kitchen with us getting comfortable with the cast iron skillet. I think he'll need one now because he was rather in awe of his chicken thighs seasoned with adobe. Rightfully so...they were delish. The boys retired to the family room for the Badger basketball game and Lils kept me company while I made Irish cream and set the table with things I found around the house.
It will be the four of us. Note I didn't say just. The four of us is enough. In fact, I'm rather looking forward to an easy going day with my best peeps.
I have an abundance to be grateful for on this day...everyday. First and foremost the love of family and friends. Everything else is gravy.
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