Today I am taking a flight to Boston, where I will have Thanksgiving with my daughter and her family and her friends. It seems hard, in the face of all the suffering we are all witnessing, to let go, and to enjoy a meal of such a great bounty. I think I should do it anyway.
I got up this morning and fed the cat and fed the dogs and opened the door to the cold morning, and then I came to sit in this familiar chair I’m in, and I looked out the window at the leaves, turning back-and-forth and lifting up and down in the wind, and it seemed like a lovely choreography of nature that was being offered. My impulse was not to let that sight gladden me, but I did it anyway. I intend to go to the airport and buy Vosges chocolates and Garrets popcorn for my family. I intend to read a good book on the plane and also to chat amiably with as many people as I can. (I intend in this way to remember that we heal each other, sometimes even inadvertently. )I intend to enjoy Thanksgiving to the best of my ability, especially the part where the dinner is done, the dishes washed and put away, and then you start all over again with the famous Thanksgiving sandwich. Here is my recipe for the famous Thanksgiving sandwich.
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