. . for abundance. Pumpkin in a can so brightly orange and homogenous. Turkey not only dead and plucked but with a built-in pop-out thermometer. Flour without bugs, home made apple butter, unlimited pecans. Two moms and a sister to cook much of the dinner. A full house of 15. Walks and games. The peculiar way that a family Thanksgiving reminds me of a team celebration, rather than the other way around after all these years, and the peculiar guilt of even thinking that, which feels disloyal. But true.
.. for snow flakes, drizzle softening suddenly into a magical white dusting, seeing individual crystals on my black coat. Not enough to coat the ground, though Jack manages one snow ball. The bleak grey of November softened up here in the West Virginia mountains by two brief snow showers.
. . for history, tales from our parents and even my Uncle Herold of long past days (the painfully familiar way he moves and thinks and sounds like my Dad did, which picks at a wound that is usually hidden). But good to reunite here on the holiday with both sides of our family and remember our roots.
.. . for Michael Jackson Dance Moves performed by my nephew Micah, whose main wish for the holidays was to see MegaMind. The Saturday matinee, a good price in Buckhannon, the family trooping over, and then unexpectedly the last scene ends with "Bad". Micah's loose-jointed little Down Syndrome body jumps out of his seat in the theatre to moonwalk in the aisle, it's his absolute favorite music, and he's in Heaven. Worth the whole weekend just for that moment of his happiness.