Today was the first day my walk home was in the dark. Cold, yet fresh like autumn; not like February. It feels good to walk up to my door, to our home and the warmth and the family and the love waiting for me. Isn't it strange how this simple pleasure is so easily missed by the common preoccupation with ourselves that prevents us from seeing what we truly have?
This November I am resolutely preparing for Thanksgiving all month.
Brian
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