This Thursday marks my eighth Thanksgiving with Brett. Eight Thanksgivings! Four with my family, and four with his. We rotate every year to keep things simple.
Simple. Such a sweet little word. Our Thanksgivings have been rather simple these past seven years. We wake up leisurely, and enjoy breakfast together before putting on our “dinner clothes” and driving to his family’s house or mine. Sometimes we bring an appetizer or dessert, sometimes we don’t. We spend the day eating way too much and reflecting on God’s blessings, clinking champagne flutes and toasting family. And then we come home, where our warm house smells of pumpkin spice candles. We get our Christmas tree that weekend and decorate the house, stringing lights up and down the banister. We make hot chocolate and listen to Christmas music in our pjs as we hang ornaments on the tree. That’s our Thanksgiving every year. It’s simple, and relatively quiet. Have I mentioned how much I love the quiet?
Next year, our Thanksgiving will be slightly more complicated. We won’t wake up leisurely, and I’ll probably spend more time dressing our baby than I’ll spend dressing myself. There will be car seats and breastfeeding and diapers and spit up. We will probably be late. Possibly very late. It will be loud(er) and I don’t know if we’ll have time to get our tree that weekend.
Yes, Thanksgiving next year will not be as simple as the previous eight. Today, I am especially thankful for those eight quiet and peaceful thanksgivings. And I’m even more thankful for all the chaotic ones to come.