Yesterday was my first Thanksgiving not as a family.
Last November, 5 months after our Mum passed away, 3 of my 4 brothers and I gathered at Drew’s house and toasted our parents.
This year, we all went separate.
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Fred was at his new place in the Blue Ridge, with our nephew D-Man.
My Irish Twin took up an invite to spend this holiday with Chelly and her family, I think in South Carolina.
Drew had his in-laws over.
Joe, I don’t know, he didn’t answer my text. To be fair, Joe never answers texts. I suspect it was him and his wife enjoying their new place in D.C., after spending a year relocated out of Ukraine to Missouri.
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Absolutely did I have a sentimental moment as Irish Twin and I exchanged a few updates.
He said it was nice there but awkward, and that he missed Fred and our family table. I told him to hang in and trust his natural charm, and that I missed him, us and it too.
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And me … My lovely friend Marty made me his version of an American Thanksgiving feast done with an English flare. The flare? Why, Yorkshire Pudding of course!
To quote Marty: It was lush.
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Now I’ve a day off, and I’m hoping I can manage my time well and stay away from work.
The current plan is to indulge a nap, to be followed by an afternoon out at the waterfront local with Marty and Mack.
Happy Friday.