[A
Tuesday / Thursday Feature of the First Road Blog]
This
is our fourth Thanksgiving in the Sunshine State, compared with over sixty Thanksgivings in the northeastern United States, and all but five of those in
upstate New York. As today approached I was aware of a change from our first
holiday here. Perhaps it is a common pattern…or…maybe not.
The
first year we talked out of both sides of our mouth. We verbally reveled in the fact we
didn’t have to “bundle up” to go hither and thither for the seasonal
traditions; but in more private conversations, we reminisced and missed the
embedded familiarity. Comparisons were a constant.
The
second year we worked to remember the new “traditions” we experienced the first
year. We, or at least I, navigated through the season in a dull boat
momentarily enlivened by encounters with family, new friends, AND A COUPLE GRANDKIDS
NEARBY.
The
third year. Well, honestly, that’s kind of a blank in my memory. No memories of
nostalgia. No memories of excitement. It was…well… Thanksgiving and we did the
Thanksgiving things.
But
this year there’s a difference. It is a Florida holiday: Florida coolness, dry
Florida leaves, and the now familiar flowers and grasses of Florida. The Wednesday
regulars at the tennis courts weren’t there yesterday, and we knew why. The
excitement of day-before-ness snuck up on us through the day.
We looked forward to and were amply rewarded by the annual prayer meeting
service at our church, in our town, among our now much better known friends, AND THREE GRANDKIDS NEARBY. Sure
we think of the northeast. Sure we treasure good memories. Sure we wish we
could get together with our SIX NORTH DAKOTAN GRANDKIDS and our TWO BRAZILIAN
GRANDKIDS. But the wishes no longer haunt the soul. Nor do they exert any kind of a
temptation to move north to try to regain them. (There are no grandkids there!)
Time
passes into a memory. But we do not. We move forward to a destiny and are free to enjoy Thanksgiving on the way.
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