Thanksgiving Day

It's grey but not too cold, and in my mind's eye, I see it without the cars, without the pavement, without the power lines. I imagine the sidewalks made of mud; the houses huddled together for protection from the wind as much as from the natives. It seems to me this scene is very similar to what the original settlers saw when they celebrated their Thanksgiving Days.

They knew very well that these chilly autumn days would lead to frigid winter ones, where everything they were to eat was stored in their pantries and root cellars. No dash to the store to pick up a pound of butter... a harsh life, yet they were thankful for the bounty the land gave them during the summer.

I'm thankful that I live in a time when people don't die from catching a cold. I'm thankful that my family can find the time to come together and share bread, and I'm thankful that even in the middle of the city, furry creatures like that grey streak dashing across the sidewalk still pay us a visit. To remind us of the land under our feet, and it's importance to our lives.