And that's ok.
This year, we got a bag of kettle corn that was freshly popped outside the nursery. I thought I knew where a coffee shop was in a nearby plaza, but got it wrong, so we skipped hot chocolate and coffee. But next year, I'll make sure to know.
The kids got home and excitedly hung ornaments on the tree.
I was putting away the Thanksgiving dishes. Some shelves held magazines of my favorite food publication: Everyday Food. It's out of print now, but I loved the perfect sized cookbooks that I got every month. At the other house, it was one of my favorite things--to get the magazine and tune out the world and turn page after page of new recipes.
On some of the covers, I wrote the names of my favorite meals held in that edition. Several of these foods were staples to our menu: banana chocolate chip bread (a playdate feature and welcome loaf to new friends), chicken parmesan, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, plum cake, and chicken penne pasta.
I went through years of magazines. I ripped out pages of things that were old favorites, and I kept pages of recipes we can still use now.
Still, I felt a little sad.
There was gray smoke coming from the chimney when Erin and I got home from a quick run to the store today. Fire in the fireplace. Warmth.
We fixed up some popcorn and put on a Christmas movie. The four of us and the dog in the living room.
Outside it looked wintry gray.
I thought on things.
An address label from our former house fell from one of the magazines.
New traditions in an instant and old favorites left behind.
How the kids hung Christmas ornaments, sometimes several crowded close on the branches.
My dad and his love for the cranberry gingerale we had this year. I bought him a bottle to take home with him today.
Friendships and former friendships.
Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love? Can the child within my heart rise above? Can I sail through the changing ocean tides? Can I handle the seasons of my life?
Dad told me that he really enjoyed Thanksgiving, and I felt grateful.
I don't know why I'm so acutely aware of the brokenness in this world. Maybe it was that song. Or maybe because of Monday.