Sunday After Thanksgiving: Just Gratitude

Thanksgiving has come and gone. And this Sunday — let's be honest, I'm writing this Saturday night because 9:18 AM on a Sunday ain't happening —

I'M JUST GRATEFUL

For Chris, who brings me coffee every morning with a little drawing on the napkin. Every. Single. Morning. That's love.

For my son — technically my stepson, that's another blog altogether. He's been through more than most, yet never lost his spark. He's got a big heart and knows his path.

For his soon-to-be wife. She's his other half — and watching them together, I know their upcoming wedding is just the beginning of an amazing partnership.

For my parents. Still here. Slower than they used to be, but just steps away. I am very aware these years are limited. I don't take a single visit for granted.

For my sisters, their spouses, and my nephews. They keep me sane, drive me insane, and ground me so I still know who I am — equal parts love, support, and opinions. Christmas with all of us in one room? Couldn't imagine it any other way.

For my future in-laws — extended family I didn't expect and now can't imagine without.

For my friends.

The ones who stayed close — the ride-or-dies. No question, just there. We show up for each other. Always have.

The ones who just joined the inner circle — meaningful connections, rare in a city like this.

The ones that drifted — miss them more than they probably know. My bad for letting life get in the way — and I'm not waiting another year to fix that.

The friendships that expired — because they mattered.

For my former colleagues — the ones who reached out after the restructure, and the ones who ghosted. Both were honest. I'm thankful for the clarity.

For the restructure that gave me space I didn't even know I needed. Space to start this. Space to breathe. Space to finally pay attention — even on the days I have no idea what I did with all that time.

For the ordinary. The messy. The quiet mornings. The loud dinners.

For coffee strong enough to power a small village.

Gratitude isn't always comfortable.
Some of it comes with worry. Some of it comes with guilt.
But at least now I'm paying attention.

I know not everyone's Thanksgiving looked like this.
Some years, mine didn't either — and other years, I was too focused on quarter close to even notice.

But having room to breathe gave me clarity.

Clarity to see what's actually here. What's always been here.

For that I am blessed!

YOUR MOVE?

If gratitude felt different this year — quieter, sharper, a little uncomfortable — that’s you finally paying attention.

Maybe your move is texting one person you miss and saying, “Let’s not wait another year to catch up.”

Feeling thankful for everyone at your table — in all their messy, opinionated glory — absolutely counts as a move.

Next Week: Benched Me for a Rookie!

P.S. If a friend sent this to you and you thought “that’s me,” pull up a chair every Sunday by subscribing.
P.P.S. If someone popped into your head while you were reading, forward this her way.