Thanksgiving comes every day of the year.

Our table creaks beneath the blessed abundance we discover during the holidays with more than enough to share.

Nothing much happened here at home today.

Nothing much atall.

Oh, the newspapers – all three of them — were there in the front yard long before the sun came up, there to let us know what is going on in the world.

And the television sets were there to do likewise. All three of them.

Not to even mention the three radios. Plus the two cars, of course.

Weeks of music, days of videos are there – there as near and as easily accessible as the push or click of a button.

Books are here and there. Everywhere. There to be read the old-fashioned way – in print. And the new-fangled way – electronically.

The birds are there to help welcome the morning, to cheerfully, encouragingly introduce the day.

The squirrels romped, even danced, as if to entertain the yawning, waking sun.

The roses bloomed profusely. Pinks. Reds. Whites. Roses that seemed to smile. And elicit smiles.

Roger Summers

An endless supply of water was in the faucet.

Hot.

And, of course, room temperature.

Even chilled.

The electricity was there. There to power the multitude of appliances that help make it a pleasure to get up in the morning. And ease many of the chores. So much so that they really aren’t much of a chore atall.

The phones – all four of them — are working. Phones that keep us instantly connected to the place next door, the places half way around the world. All those places in between. And beyond.

There is food inside. Fresh. Canned. Frozen. Refrigerated. Enough to last for days, maybe weeks. With supermarkets nearby for replenishment, should we run low. And how long has it been since that happened?

And an assortment of ways to cook it, prepare it, preserve it. Even fine-tune the taste of it.

The cunning family cats come to play, to entertain, to incessantly purr, keep us company. To help smooth the day, sooth the way.

There is enough clothing to fill the half dozen or so closets. And then some. Clothes for any occasion. Any weather.

There is medicine for what ails us. And hospitals – should we need them — just down the street.

Physicians, just minutes away.

And there is the comfortable, climate-controlled car to get us there.

And back.

Two parks are within steps of us. All we have to do is step.

A fire truck eases through the neighborhood. Not on an emergency run. Maybe just letting the fire fighters familiarize themselves with the area. Just in case.

Later, a police patrol car slowly passes, maybe doing much the same. And, like the fire truck, comforting. Just knowing it is there. Just in case.

Neighbors come by. Some walking. Some jogging. Some biking. Some pushing baby carriages. Some with canes. Some wave. Some stop to chat. To wish us a good day.

Anything we need?

The postal worker brings the mail. And delivers a warm smile, a happy greeting with it.

A work crew comes to get the yard neat and tidy for the holidays.

A friend calls, just to talk, to see how we are doing, to catch up.

No.

Nothing much happened here at home today.

Nothing much atall.

Just those normal happenings which – come to think of it — remind that, here at home, Thanksgiving comes every day. Many times a day. In many ways.

In multiplicity.

With dependability.

So much so, that – for many of us, anyhow – our table creaks beneath the blessed abundance.

Abundance aplenty.

With more than enough to share.

Please click HERE to find Roger’s Musings of a Newspaper Dude on Amazon.

, , , , , , , ,

Related Posts