Thanksgiving Day began with a ride in the woods, just Benji and me. I let him lead. He took me to the river field, a place with neat rows of pine trees which Grandma harvests every fifteen years or so for lumber. It was full of tall pines when I married Michael. A couple of years ago, the field was cleared. The pines were cut and the understory was burned. It looked like a wasteland. I remember how drastically it changed the landscape of our rides.
New saplings were planted in the neat rows to start their reach for the sun. When we were here last Thanksgiving, the trees were small and the field still seemed bare. This morning, when Benji led me into the field, I gasped. In a year the trees have sprung up tall in bright happy evergreen chutes. The field looks full and rich again.
From a place of despair, beauty grew.
At the Thanksgiving meal I couldn’t speak. It was too much. I wanted to say so many things. I realize that this is why I write. I can’t get the words past my throat. They are too big.
Banyan and Benji both showed such goodness today. A long day, a late night, and a last minute s’mores rush pushed them over the edge, and the sweetness came to an end. It was time for bed. But looking back on this Thanksgiving, one that will always mean so much to us, I will remember that they were happy. They were kind. They were helpful. They were thankful.
We are all so thankful.