Thanksgiving Morning

There is me. Unshowered, sleeping baby strapped to my chest, pantsless (because thank goodness we aren’t hosting Thanksgiving, a dear friend is), standing in the kitchen while J cooks away. 


Back and forth, back and forth I sway: the momma rock.

Miss H and Mr. B delight over the Macy’s Thnksgiving parade.

J folds tamales. “I’m glad the way our life turned out.”


There is so much heartache in this world. So much unjust. 

But for today anyway, I’m just going to focus on all the good. All the good that fits together in my tiny kitchen. 

The sweet, ever-patient, hard-working husband.

The precocious, witty, beautiful little girl.

The hilarious, cuddly, handsome little boy.

And the sweet, mischievous baby. 

J said it all.

I’m glad the way our life turned out. 

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