It’s Thanksgiving Day, little sweetheart. I remember that you told me it was never such a big holiday in your family - no nearly so much as Christmas - and because you and your dad both have mid to late November birthdays.
I’m alone, as I am most years, but I still make an effort to cook and so much so that I have leftovers for nearly a week. I think one of reasons why is that a few years ago I put out word for a few people to come by on my birthday and it wasn’t exactly shaping up. The night before I heard that an old friend had passed after a long battle with cancer and that the family was sitting shiva the next day, my birthday. I went to that and it was kind of amazing.
Everyone brought food, they were lots of little kids running around, it was kind of an almost joyous celebration of my friend’s life - just as she would want it to be. At one point a five piece mariachi band even turned up.
After I left and was taking the long walk home. I decided that I would cook and bake a cake, even if it was just me. That’s kind of something I do now. I try to still do things like I would if you were here. And in so doing, I really rather believe that you are.
Happy Thanksgiving, little sweetheart. Love you forever.
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