Though this wasn't the first Thanksgiving I'd spent without my parents, it was one of the few and it did feel a little strange. Though both of my grandparents are now gone, I still imagine our holiday rituals. We sat around their big dining room table with the grandfather clock chiming in front of me, my grandpa sitting to my left making little jokes, my grandma rushing things out to the table and my dad saying a simple prayer.
Our family traditions mostly revolved around food. My new family traditions with my husband and step-kiddos also revolve around food. That grandfather clock now sits in my living room offering me the chimes of my childhood.
Variety is the spice of life but routine and ritual is what grounds us. We looked out over our city with the frozen marsh below us, the rocky bluffs all around us and a train rumbled by down below.
I wondered if this hike would become a tradition and hoped it would.
We tromped around on the cold ground, my hands went numb taking pictures, it was invigorating.
I thought about the "Grace" photograph with the old man praying over a loaf of bread that hung over my grandparents' table. Eric Enstrom, the photographer, said he liked the photograph because "this man doesn't have much of earthly goods, but he has more than most people because he has a thankful heart."
I felt grateful that we were heading home to a warm house with a turkey in the oven and our grandfather clock chiming away in the corner.
For each new morning with its light.
For rest and shelter of the night,
For health and food,
For love and friends,
For everything Thy goodness sends.
--Ralph Waldo Emerson-'Thanksgiving'
just blogwalking.. Nice post and have a nice day :)
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