Thanksgiving

Nudged inside by a whoosh of chill air, the scent of baking bread, gravy, and magnificent turkey hit me as we stepped into Stella and Brian's house. Hello, Thanksgiving. After the smell, what greeted me was a pair of big eyes magnified by a pair of round glasses and a crinkly smile, peering over the back of the couch. Hello, Jordan. The third thing I noticed was a blur of boy as he scampered past and a little giggle. Hello, Alexander.

Toys emerged from the bedroom in hordes to be shown off, scrapbooks of vacations were passed around, and brie cheese and homemade bread preceded the feast.

Then we ate, seated at a table fit for royalty and covered in enough food to host a NFL team.

Then we digested and laughed. Washed the dishes.

And of course, dessert still remaining, we ate again.

In the warm delight of a dark November night, leaning in over half full cups of coffee with our travel-savy friends to examine a world map and dream about other cultures, the magic of the holiday floated in the air like steam from hot out of the oven stuffing.