It's a wonderful Thanksgiving Day with family.
If I could bottle up my twenty-two year old niece, Bailey, she's the best medicine of all. She's absolutely tiny, petite in proportion. Has yet to hit 20 pounds and shouldn't yet be in a front-facing car seat because she's so little. But there's something so entertaining about such a little package who's got such a personality and is learning all of the intricacies of this world.
Her newest discovery? Owls. She loves owls, and I just happen to have a cream wooden one sitting on a shelf as a winter decoration. She quickly claims it as her own and insists on tucking it under one arm (even though it's rather hefty wooden piece) and dragging it with her all over the house.
Laughter and being entertained by Bailey and all of my young nephews and nieces truly is the best medicine. It's a great day.
That night, I'm a little sobered when I express my most recent thoughts to Dale.
"Love? Out of the past five Thanksgivings, how many have we spent while dealing with cancer or the effects of a bone marrow transplant to cure the cancer?
We both come to the same conclusion. Four. Four out of the last five Thanksgivings have been spent with the dreaded C word hanging over our heads.
Drat! We need some new holiday plans!
No comments:
Post a Comment