thanksgiving

it's thanksgiving morning and i don't believe i've ever had a thanksgiving with more to be thankful about. my beautiful daughter is sleeping soundly in her little bucket, snow covers the ground, and my house is filled with a sense of peace and calm. in a few hours my sister and her man arrive to share in this glorious time. up the road, all of jeff's family is already gathered in anticipation of a weekend together, kelli and jack driving all the way from portland last night. today we will gather with our closest friends and their families to share food. it's pretty incredible. i remember my first thanksgiving in montana. i didn't go anywhere and ended up having a nutty, missoula style feast with lots of neighbors and lots of random folks i just met that day. there was lots of game meat, tons of "foody" style root vegetable dishes, everything grown in people's gardens, everything on the table with some sort of food ethic behind it. i remember feeling like i was living in some weird dream where people gathered together like that; it was so different to the southern california thanksgivings i grew up with. now it's five years later and all my family is coming together to visit me in my space, on my terms. and brianna and joellen, my two best friends here, are bringing their families here too - it's like the montana family we made is merging with out biological families. it's pretty sweet. of course i would love for my mom to be here, for it not to be so hard for people to come together. i know that i am the one that left, that i chose this other path. but then i think again about my baby. think about the life she is going to have, already has. the community of people here who love her. the woods she walks in. the calm, safe surroundings of living in a town where people don't lock doors, where neighbors are actually friendly, where the pace is a bit more mellow. i think about her beautiful daddy, out trying, god bless him, to provide meat for this family. think about all the hours he has spent following elk tracks, trying so ardently to use the resources that we have in abundance, to live off this wild land. i'm looking at the frost melting on the window, at my picnic table covered in nearly a foot of snow, and can't believe he is hiking around, quietly, stealthily, on this morning. when did my life become like this? when did this become normal? my husband out hunting, our baby asleep in our bed, the snow bringing excitement instead of fear. being something i actually know how to live in, navigate through. i have so much to be thankful for today. i also have so much to be proud of. i'm proud of my girl and of my man. i'm also proud of myself, proud of the leap of faith it took to get me here, proud of the goodness within me, the strength to take-risks, the power to forge our own path.