On Thanksgiving day in New York City they couldn’t fly the Macy’s Parade balloons high in the air. Many balloons were grounded. Gusting wind whipped through the cavernous streets. There was a chill in the air.
I was cleaning and working in a small apartment above those streets. There was no turkey and dressing on my table. Brad was eating take-out from a cardboard box. I was wallpapering a nursery wall. We were alone and our table was bare.
We didn’t even glance at the TV.
We didn’t care. Nothing could dim our thankful hearts. For the first time in our lives, Brad and I were grandparents. Our granddaughter rested in a hospital high above the glittering streets of New York. She made her grand entrance the night before Thanksgiving.
Welcome to the world, Winnie Laurie Beth ! Your name is bigger than you are!
Today, Winter swept into New York with sleet and rain which coated the sidewalks and puddled the trash-strewn street gutters. Brad and I do not care. Our granddaughter is home.
Today we hold her and cuddle her and discuss life with her. She pulls her tiny head up and looks at us with a quizzical look. She acts like she understands our discussion. She yawns and stretches and nuzzles her soft cheek into our shoulders. She is our girl and this is a precious time.
Happy and blessed Thanksgiving to you, dear readers! Sorry I’m late, but Brad and I have been busy with New York cleaning, wallpapering, jumping over puddles and talking to our baby girl.