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Reflections from the SwampFall Rains on Thanksgiving

Fall Rains on Thanksgiving

Reflections from the Swamp
Richard van Duyvendyk

Dear Reader

After weeks of high temperatures, dinners on the deck, a last swim at the quarry, and watching the angels with their buckets of paint colouring the leaves with bright crimsons, oranges and shades of yellow, the fall rains have finally come. The weekends were always the time for a bath or shower.

Blow through us, wet winds, as you blow through the trees. Scatter us in cascading leaves over the forest trail, over our grandchildren and the passers-by. Joyfully, we walk, watching the dancing feet of the children reaching up to capture the falling leaves, oblivious to the intermittent rains.

I try to dance, too, on wobbly knees while the children laugh at me. My bride, much more nimble, captures the rhythm of the wind and moves elegantly with the falling leaves.

We see a flock of wild turkeys, oblivious to the fate of their domesticated cousins, moving their prehistoric-looking bodies silently through the field.

As millions across the country gather around the table and the turkey, these wild birds will be the only turkeys we see this Thanksgiving.

The magical part of Thanksgiving happened outdoors.

The wildlife calling from the trees or scurrying across the forest floor, the colourful leaves cascading down on us, the clouds floating by, and the sounds of children laughing and tussling each other are the images that will come to mind when I think of this Thanksgiving. Our best memories, the ones that stay with us, come from times when we live fully in the moment.

Before the Thanksgiving meal, as a family, we traditionally stand in a circle, and each family member says something they are thankful for.

Being thankful for our lives, each other, and those fleeting memories when we lived in the moment and fully felt alive is worth being grateful for.

Happy Thanksgiving.

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