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Tears of Thanksgiving

by Sherrin Linn Larson 2 years ago in humanity
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Remembering How it Used to Be

Color Me

"Imagine a picture perfect Thanksgiving Day. The last of the leaves falling off the trees in the gentle breeze make a sound when they touch down as crisp as the apples used to bake the pies. The kids outside playing with the family dog has spiked the curiosity of the cat who gets his digs in once in a while, pouncing gleefully on the unsuspecting victim. The smells from the kitchen are enough to cause anyone's stomach to verbalize it's eagerness and anticipation of the meal to come."

Half an hour has passed before realization hits and the practice of mindfulness brings me around to the present situation at hand. While memories may bring about unexpected emotions that have been churning just underneath the conscious mind, most of them bring about melancholy. Sad, but true. Holidays gone by the wayside for all eternity will never resurface with the familiar laughter and gaiety. What used to be "family gatherings" included all the family members likeable, or otherwise. It seems in this day and age "family" consists of who gets chosen for the invite, leaving the least of them to their own devices.

There may not be a turkey roasting in the oven. There wont be any family coming to visit from out of town, or anywhere else for that matter. There wont be any "special surprise" from mother nature waiting to be discovered out in the woods like every other year at this time, on this date.

Yet, even though times are tough (because it's not what we're used to), there's a certain amount of thankfulness that touches the soul in a place no other can touch. It is found at the very core of our essence. I am very thankful that I have discovered this place of gratitude in solitude. It is here where happiness can be attained, never to be taken away like so much else in this temporal life.

After suffering heavy losses: family members that pass on, the old homestead is not available to visit anymore, "friends" that turn out to not be "friends" after all, a significant other that has decided someone else is more significant than you are; these are the things that bring you back to yourself and the things that really count.

If there is any one thing I can be thankful for today, it is that I have discovered this place within. Sure, it can be very lonely at times. And then there are times when too many voices in my head can make it seem rather crowded. Then I am thankful that I know how to calm them down to barely audible whispers of gratitude, usually accompanied by the tears that solitude can offer. I am thankful for these tears as well.

I didn't know it until I started writing this that it is actually the tears that I am most thankful for today. My tears can soothe the weariness of my body, stifle the aching of my heart and cleanse me of any impurities and toxins accumulated in my being. Without tears, I would be a bundle of the messiest humankind could offer. No doubt that without the tears, I would be in a straight-jacket somewhere not able to express myself to anyone.

It is true, there is no turkey cooking, none of the delicious aromas coming from my kitchen. There will be no family visits due to lack of living family members. I wont be hiking through the woods today in search of that special gift from mother nature. But, the tears that fall from my eyes today will remind me of how thankful I truly am to have the memories brought on by days and years gone by.

The future, as uncertain as it is, brings about an anxiety that is unfamiliar. The anticipation of the fast-approaching Christmas Season is met with a lack of excitement. Family get-togethers are now a thing of the past for the days ahead. Creativity dictates that now is the time to re-order traditions and entertain some new ways of celebrating. Perhaps a handful of friends, some brainstorming while sipping on some Hot Apple Cider, a notebook and some recipes will add some spice. All in all, the challenge of facing the year 2021 may just be the ticket I'm looking forward to.


About the author

Sherrin Linn Larson

I was "hatched" at Pullman Memorial Hosp. in October 1960, spent most of my childhood in Hawaii, then moved to the outskirts of Spokane, WA in 1973. Writing has been a form of therapy for my no-where-near-normal life experiences. Spiritual

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