I Feel Their Hands

I'm living the dream of my ancestors.

I think of my immigrant great grandparents who made a terribly difficult decision to leave everything they had ever known to come to America. I think of my parents who raised all three of us kids to be entrepreneurs, running our own businesses. It is hard and deeply worth it. All of our Thanksgivings before…I still feel them. I feel the hands of those long gone on my shoulders.

This is a beautiful time of year that comes with bare trees and so much clarity for me. There is a true falling into winter here. We don’t have any snow that’s stuck so far, but it’s coming. I can feel it in the air. Morning darkness lasts so late and comes again so early. I love the textures of fall every bit as much as the colors, all muted and weathered. The smell of burning leaves and quiet pines.

Thanksgiving is the capstone of this season and my favorite holiday. It’s all about the senses. It’s the smell of turkey and pumpkin pie. The taste of cinnamon, cranberries and oranges. All of the love with no pressure of gifts. It is its own season for sure. After the blazing color and before all the hustle and bustle is a season of gratitude and grace.

I love to have a few special tastes on our table just for the holidays–our senses are so connected to memories. This year I made a batch of cinnamon maple butter and cranberry orange butter too.  Our house still smells like oranges. I made whipped citrus honey and couldn’t help but think about the bees on Ed’s family farm and how generous they were to provide. The lemon curd and Christmas jam, so bright and cheery. I make it every year.

I’m so grateful. I think all of the hard things Ed did by himself before I was in the picture to create this life for me.  I think of his parents and how they raised him, working together on the farm.  How he made a whole life up here on the lake before I got here and how I benefit from all of that love.

I migrated away for nearly thirty years, but like the birds, I migrated back. The older I get the more I see the cycle repeating itself. There’s an inhale and an exhale and another inhale. We get close and drift away and get close again. Ed and I had our own families and whole lives of our own and then we created our own tradition we share with family and friends.

And now with you. Take a deep breath and take it all in. May you find clarity in the scent of pine and oranges. May the crunch of leaves and bare branches find you warm with the gratitude of holidays past and whatever quiet richness this new season of life brings.