It’s Thanksgiving night and I imagine many of you are away from your computers and with good reason!
Kyle and I have spent the whole day together, just the two of us. That’s my favorite part about Thanksgiving – the two of us and the puppy snuggled up in our apartment every year, cooking and watching movies and making up holiday-themed dance routines in the kitchen and wrestling the giblets from the still-partially frozen turkey and arguing over whether Scrooged or White Christmas is the better Christmas movie.
It’s been a great day but you know what really clinched it for me? Finally sitting down at our tiny kitchen table and listening to Kyle talk about growing up in Steamboat Springs, watching his eyes close as he describes the layout of his childhood home on 7th Street, watching him smile as he explained how he and his little brother Aaron would help decorate for Christmas. I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face and I just kept thinking, “There is still so much I want to know about you. There is still so much to find out.”
On our eighth Thanksgiving, I keep imagining the next year and the next and the next. I have no idea what they will look like. Will they be like this one? Will there be a tiny new person soon? Will there be another house, another home? Another job? Another city? The future seems like an impossible, overwhelming unknown.
And then I hear Kyle’s prayer over dinner echoing in my ears: “Thank you for Elizabeth, thank you, God, for being the one who holds us together after all this time. We know that’s because of you. In Your name, Amen.”