Thanksgiving traditions were born a few years ago.   We host dinner, on Friday.  We do all the cooking, all the cleanup.   We send home leftovers with everyone who comes.   We ask nothing of them, except their presence.

This year, drama ensued.   First one decided not to come, then the rest.  

Sadness, and stress, tears and blame.   

It was not my choice for them to not come.   It is, however, my choice to be upset about it or not.  

I choose to not let them think they’ve won a victory.  I choose to celebrate the day, to make dinner for my family – my husband and my dog – and to be thankful for what I have.   This is not my loss.  It’s hers.  

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