Thankful.

This Thanksgiving I am thankful. I am thankful for a warm house to be welcomed into, with Italian pie baking fresh in the oven and hugs awaiting. I am thankful for a boyfriend who picked me up and drove me all over, and let me rest and relax against him. I am thankful for car-ride games and colored turkeys and little notes left. I am thankful for family gathered around two big tables, and for all the hands who served and held there. I am thankful for old uncles who chatter and gravy poured over dressing. I am thankful for omelets prepared, tea bought, books discussed, pies displayed.

I am thankful for Friday mornings in the kitchen. For Mark's mom who went and printed out recipes, bought Gladware, and purchased ingredients. For our aprons tied around and our men at the table. I am thankful for flour spilled and oats strewn and mixing soda and powder. I am thankful for heart-filled conversation and words shared and raisins stirred in. I am thankful for ESPN on male laptops and M&Ms pressed to pretzel. I am thankful for a mom to hug and laughter at my side and Mark and Jerry across.

I am thankful for what was made in that kitchen. For oatmeal raisin cookies and pretzels kissed with Hershey's. For the communion and connection of women, of family, of home, of love. For that, truly, is what was made in that kitchen.

And I am thankful.