Thanksgiving 2025

mother and three of her young adult children

comprise my laughing crew

of daughter and beloved grandkids

playing a word game that tests their wit

and playfulness as i am privileged

to watch, listen and whisper thanks

gathering

family table with leaves

for apples who fell

far from the tree

childhood memories rewarmed

boxed and taped, sent off

to loved relatives leaves me

warm with memories

mutual

“I love freckles,” said Grandma

as she consoled her bullied

‘spot-face’ grandson

“I love wrinkles.” He grinned.

father in autumn

autumn leaves swirl

pushing forward the clock

as we remark passing seasons

but also reminding me of childhood

privilege of diving into the pile of leaves

laboriously raked by wearied father

who smiled, nonetheless,

to hear our laughter

warmth

warm sunlit morning

laughter with my kids by phone

already a beautiful day

that’s the way it is

“Remember,” a church lady

proclaimed, “for every child, there is

a mother who loves him.”

I bowed my head, wishing

with everything within me

that what she believed were true

Children need to learn to love

and many, being given so little themselves or, neglected or abused,

learn, rather, to regard others as they

have been considered and behave

as they have seen modeled for them

A child must learn to love

If his caretakers cannot or do not cherish

can we who see, afford not to give

whatever we can?

swept up laughter and joy

swept the porches and weeded

the front garden early this morning

before more scheduled viewings

of our house on the hill

rhodies bursting into pinks

and whites and iris into purple

three snow-capped peaks glistening

on the horizon while my heart

warms to the interest and melts

at the loss of the home for decades

of family laughter and joy

my identity through my kids

get-together at mjMG last night

for an early Thanksgiving dinner

my brother and sister-in-law joined me

we met a few new people

and a lady who looked so familiar

but i couldn’t place her

until she asked if i were the mother

of the woman who plays with

Bells of the Cascades

so, even now, these many years later

i am best known as the mother

of my wonderful kids

longed for

so far away

but still belonging

wanted, longed for

bringing with a hug

an inundation of joyful tears

so many help

some friends help so far

beyond my expectations

seeing a need before i express it

and quietly filling in gaps

i would have stumbled over

i am so blessed with family

and insightful friends

daughter, mother

over  lunch at filbert’s farm kitchen

laughter and pleas for ancestor stories

catching up on the kids’ activities

comparing perspectives on family

gatherings and the tales emerging

from them, more laughter

and moments of tender grief

daughter, mother share the joy

and pain of loving deeply

a mother’s pride

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gift of courage

awakening in fear

not of the test itself

but of its implications

awakening to find

a joyous card from my daughter

professing love i know to be

her daily gift to me

despite the years of pain

she has endured

i will borrow

a bit of her courage and take

the test and its results

as they are

helping heal

so young to contend

with a disease that is robbing

her of sight

and now beloved father’s fight

with cancer lost

holidays have only so much magic

that moments beside Pacific’s turbulent surf enhance

but nothing yet

can heal the wounds

off on their own

how better to tell them

they are loved

than to meet them for lunch

near the airport before they depart

hugs and laughter over a hot meal

joyous with happy memories shared

to send them off again

to their own full world

knowing all the family is behind them

this i’ve gotta see

his roommates know little reason

to go home for the holidays

they listen, unconvinced, to stories

of his family gathering in laughter

or huddling close in times of ache

or pain or tears, being there to help

in ways he had not yet realized

he needed them

he may well have one or two

with him next celebration time

both daughters

both daughters strong for their families

both aching within for painful losses

but laughing together, scheming fun

in travel plans to fulfill a longing

of many years never realized

until now when they will decide

to make what is yearned for happen

whatever the cost to themselves

to give healing to those they love

“You forgot me”

hiking in the woods as family

father tried to swing

his toddler daughter up

around a steep, muddy spot

but hands slipped apart

she tumbled unhurt to the bottom

whimpering, “You forgot me”

portend of his leaving without

recognition of her later attempts

at reconciliation

generations hug

little red-headed boy fighting tears

hobbling grandmother comforts

“Do you know what I like most?”

“Uh-uh,” he sniffles

“Freckles. Isn’t that what they

were teasing you about?”

slow smile in response

“Do you know what I like most?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Wrinkles.”