(Thank you God, for my family)
"Oh, the comfort, the inexpressible comfort of feeling safe with a person; having neither to weigh thoughts nor measure words, but to pour them all out, just as they are, chaff and grain together, knowing that a faithful hand will take and sift them, keep what is worth keeping, and then, with a breath of kindness, blow the rest away.” ~George Eliot
*thank you Brandy
Its a tradition that began long before any of us had children of our own. Every autumn, the family and all its counterparts make the trip to Riding Mountain National Park to celebrate Thanksgiving.
We always hike the marsh, and at the end of the weaving plank walkway is a gazebo where we have probably posed for a drillion or more family photos. Then there is the treasure hunt, another hike along the lake that is cleverly disguised as a candy hunt so that the children beg for it every year. Uncle Mel's trail mix has become another favourite legend. It was initiated the year he arrived with a rough tote filled with nuts, raisins, chocolate, and candy. Which works out well for my preferred weekend parenting style. Book in one hand, a magazine in the other, and the dimples of my cellulite holding coffee, dark chocolate truffles, four dozen vintage buttons, some scraps of unbleached cotton, and a gin and tonic. Whenever the children approach something relating to hunger I just glance up and scream at them... GO EAT THE FRIGGIN TRAIL MIX!! DO I LOOK LIKE A CARING, ENGAGED MOTHER RIGHT NOW?!
And then of course, it goes without saying that there are hours and hours of family bonding.