No one is allowed to call my house at 7:30 am. Some brave person dared this morning and as I groaned under the covers, I couldn't help but imagine all sorts of scenarios.
With Thanksgiving only days away, and with us in Florida and everyone else we know thousands of miles away, I couldn't help but worry if someone died. Early morning or late night phone calls produce that kind of reaction in me. I can't help it--we've had the calls before.
Holidays bring out all kinds of emotions. We get together with people we haven't seen in months, we travel to new or familiar destinations, we invite others to share our table or we spend it alone watching the Macy's Day parade and an afternoon football game.
But in the midst of all these heightened senses--something else is growing. Something is taking shape as the hours tumble before us like the shriveled leaves on the lawn.
Our next story.
By the time this holiday ends--you'll have a new story needing to be written. So pass me the leftovers because I plan to make a pretty good casserole for next week.