My emotions are all a jumble. This is our first Thanksgiving apart. Even saying it like that, “apart,” seems only temporary. I supposed given the circumstances, “asunder,” would be more accurate.
I made dressing for dinner even though I never liked eating it. I would only make it for you. I guess it was simply habit. I could freeze the leftovers. Maybe I should just toss the pan out in the backyard for the birds and squirrels.
It’s all still so new, and raw. I’ll fit all the pieces back together eventually. For now, I’m thankful, just not sure why.
Thin spiral notebook 
I was heartbroken reading this and a relieved to learn that it is fiction. pOWERFUL.
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Love.
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Beautifully written.
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Hauntingly sad, even knowing it is fiction.
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Nice! I like your writing!
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I did not press like because I can not tell if this is a story OR something you are really going through – it’s so real. Hope it’s just a story. Waving at you from Cape Cod.
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Thank you, Frances for your concern. This was complete fiction. I’m good, and am bountifully thankful for having my Mister in my life.
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Glad to know this entry was fiction.
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