At a Thanksgiving potluck today, I was handed a three-month-old boy and had the privilege of feeding him his bottle for a while. Twenty minutes later, our host and another guest treated us all to an informal concert, playing the piano and the violin respectively. As I sat there, listening to the music and watching the woman next to me holding the same baby boy, I thought back to Thanksgivings past.
When I was a child, all the adults at our Thanksgiving dinners were firmly in control of the world around me. Some of them were in their prime, with their best years ahead of them and with dreams yet to fulfill. It was their world, and I was (more…)