Monday we celebrated Thanksgiving here in Canada, and I had full intentions on sitting down and writing at some point over the long weekend. But, as is my habit, I bit off a little more than I could chew and found myself trying to cram in more tasks than I had hours. So here we are, Wednesday, before I get the chance to express my thanks out loud.

Thanksgiving is probably my 2^nd favourite holiday of the year, only surpassed slightly by nostalgic Christmas. Thanksgiving in Atlantic Canada means trees are on full display of their true colours creating spectacular displays in vivid brightness.  There may be a nip in the air or it may be a warm sunny day, but either way it is refreshing, causing you to breathe deeply and enjoy the moment that you know will soon be changing into colder temperatures. There is time set aside to sit and visit with family and friends, to come together and share in summer’s bounty. There is a feeling in the air of thankfulness and gratitude, of reflection upon our lives to see the positive that is in it instead of dwelling on the negative. And of course, there is the food – hands lovingly preparing a feast for others to come and enjoy.  It is the essence of giving thanks from a grateful heart that makes the holiday mean so much to me.

 My mother’s family are descendants from Mayflower settlers arriving at Plymouth Rock in 1620. Whether the world agrees or not about if they actually had the first Thanksgiving and the implications of them arriving on these shores, we are still thankful they made that difficult journey to the New World to try to carve out a fresh start. My father’s family journeyed over from England 15 years later and settled into the fast-growing town of Boston. Both families at different times would find themselves migrating north through various circumstances, and eventually my parents met and these 2 families joined together. That in itself gives me something to be thankful for.