This is Thanksgiving

A cold, wet grey has clung to the hours for the past two days. At times, the temperature dipped and the rain became a sloppy snow that splashed against the ground like a heavy cream. In that grey breathed a peace that I relished. All was quiet. This morning, I opened my eyes to a new day, a bright day. Dotted with white clouds, the sky is blue and clean. A gentle wind swirls about the tree limbs. Oak and birch bob their limbs as in a dance. My children are sleeping. My wife and I sip coffee, talk, enjoy the quiet, each other. This is a new peace, a different peace. If I could, I’d smear it across the day, live it for as long as I could. This is Thanksgiving.

 

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