This Thanksgiving, the first thing I want to be thankful for is you. Not just the pies or the big table, but you, exactly as you are.
You have a way of making everyone feel like they belong. I don't think you even have to try. Whoever walks through your door, you make them feel they were expected, wanted, and already missed. That is a rare gift, and you have given it to all of us for as long as I can remember.
Thirty years of hosting Thanksgiving is something I never want to take for granted. Thirty years of planning, cooking, setting extra places, and keeping the house warm for everyone. You have made a place where people come in from the cold and feel safe the moment they sit down. I am so proud to be part of the family you gathered around that table.
I love how patient you are. You never rush anyone, and you listen like there is all the time in the world. And you are funny, Grandma. Your humor is quick and kind, and it makes a room feel lighter. I hope I can be that kind of person someday.
I think of you with flour on your hands, a fresh pie cooling nearby, a crossword puzzle waiting on the counter, and your garden growing outside the window. Those pictures feel like home to me. They feel like a blanket pulled up close on a chilly evening.
Thank you for always having room at the table, and for always having room in your heart. Whatever comes, I hope you know that you are loved by me without any conditions at all. You will always have a seat in my life, right beside me, the way I have always had one beside you.
Happy Thanksgiving, Grandma June.