Selena Robins, Author

It’s Thanksgiving weekend here in Canada, and another holiday where family and friends gather ’round the to table eat, drink and express gratitude.

This is my fifth year, navigating Thanksgiving as a widow. Getting through another holiday without the love of my life is like trying to stuff a turkey, peel potatoes and dice onions while riding a unicycle–a bit challenging as you can see.

However, it does have its moments of solititude and another opporutnity to reflect on cherished Thanksgivings gone by.

Smiling at the memories of his quirks; my beloved saved a slice of pumpkin pie for next day’s breakfast, not to mention he snuck a piece before dinner, just in case he was too full from turkey.

Smiling at the misadventures like the year the turkey wouldn’t thaw in time for some reason, and there was no way it was going to be ready for dinner, so pizza and wings with traditional sides was that year’s feast.

As a child of Italian immigrants, growing up, our table consisted of an antipasta platter, lasagna, meatballs, and enough vegetables to feed a football stadium. Turkey and stuffing were side dishes.

Over the years we have veered toward a more traditional Thanksgiving feast.

It’s basically the same as the scrumptious fare our neighbours to the south enjoy, with a few Canadian tweaks. Glazing our turkey with maple syrup (since the stuff does flow through our veins), Tourtière (French Canadian dish) served with tomato chutney, and of course mashed potatos, and a cornucopia of autumn vegetables.

An attitude of gratitude is part of my daily living, and on Thanksgiving, I add a few more to my list.

I am thankful for Godiva chocolate. Their treats are like an orgasm for the taste buds and it makes me feel good.

I’m thankful I can feel good at times.

I am thankful for the designers of nice pants with elastic waistbands.

I am thankful that since Hollywood already bastardized Bewitched there doesn’t appear to be any news that they’ll turn Cheers into a movie, because that shit would be so wrong, on so many levels.

I am thankful for the existence of Pomegranates. I am thankful I can spell and say that word and thankful I can appreciate delicious fruit.

I am thankful for Facebook, because without it, I wouldn’t know what people are having for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I am thankful for my sense of humor, warped as it is at times.

I am thankful for my family—immediate, not so immediate, blood-related and bonus family members. Family near and far. I love you all, you’re the reason that I wake up feeling grateful each and every day.

I am thankful for good friendships, both online and physical, they are supportive, witty, we laugh, we cry, we share, we just plain have a ton of fun. I love you all.

I am thankful gor my eighth grade teacher, Mr. Spooner, who gave me the nickname Scout after one of my favorite fictional characters, and encouraged me to write.

I am thankful for the readers who plunk down their hard-earned money to buy my books.

I am thankful for my hairbrush which makes a great microphone when I’m singing into it.

I am thankful for all the unsung heroes: Nivea moisturizer, hockey, sanitary workers, farmers, doctors, nurses, police, fire fighters, military men & women, volunteer workers, daycare workers, teachers. . .the list is endless.

I am thankful for all of you who follow this blog, comment and for all of you who have stuck with me today and read this far. 🙂