Happy Thanksgiving

Hi everyone, it’s been a rough week. The cumulative effect of chemo is taking its’ toll. I wrote this last week at chemo and saved it for today. I hope you find love, hope, and gratitude at Thanksgiving.

Sitting here in the chemo room — hour five — and I am tired.
Tired of sitting.
Tired of waiting.
Tired of watching the faces around me — some blank, some worried, some so quiet you can almost hear their thoughts.

There’s a look that settles over this room sometimes.
It’s the “Will I still be here next Thanksgiving?” look.
And some, bless them, are already convinced they won’t.

But the truth is, none of us really know.
Not even those of you who aren’t sitting in recliners hooked up to IV poles. Life doesn’t come with guarantees, not even with the turkey and dressing.

What I do know is this — hope is sneaky.
It slips into the room in the form of a grandchild’s text, a photo from a friend, or a nurse who calls you “sweetheart” like she means it. It sits in the corner, humming softly, waiting for you to notice it again.

Maybe this year, we can all — every one of us — choose to be grateful. Grateful for still being here, for one more laugh that turns into a snort, for one more hug that lingers, for one more text or phone call that starts with, “Just checking on you.”

Whether you spend Thanksgiving surrounded by family or curled up quietly with your own thoughts, I hope you feel love reaching toward you.

Because it’s out there — in every friend who calls or texts, every family member who worries, every person still fighting their way through another long day.

So here’s to being here.
Here’s to love that holds steady.
Here’s to hope that won’t quit.
And here’s to many more Thanksgivings — together!