No, I’m not at home for Thanksgiving holiday; these bright maple leaves have long been gone from our neck of the woods. I’m in Takoma Park, Maryland, half a mile from the border with Washington, DC, at the home of Bernie’s daughter, Alisa Glassman, and her family. It’s been a long tradition for us to be together in the Thanksgiving holiday. At first the family came up to us in Massachusetts; since Bernie’s death and my renting space in my home to Lori, I’ve come down here. Usually I drive down with Aussie; this time I flew alone.

We had a terrific dinner with another family, comprising three generations. I enjoyed it very much, but as the evening wore down, I felt my spirits droop. We were 9 people for dinner, including two children, myself, and three couples, and at a certain point I strongly felt my singlehood. Or was it singularity?

I feel my aloneness now in the guest room where I will shortly go to sleep. My father’s 9^th memorial is today, and I actually remembered to bring a Jewish 24-hour memorial candle with me to light for the occasion. The candle will continue to be lit even as I go to sleep.

Sometimes you can’t articulate the emotions you feel. A couple of feelings go off in one direction, others in a whole other direction. I will undress and go to bed, read (loving Richard Powers’ Playground), and then let that candle continue to light the room as I burrow under the blankets.

Towards the end of this Thanksgiving Day, my belly full of excellent food (some of which I cooked), I say Amen to everything. There’s no love without death, no great-fullness without some hint of mortality.

Coming home on Saturday, blog scheduled to return on Monday. A warm and heartfelt thank you to all those who made donations to helping the immigrant community here.  I hope and pray for their wellbeing at this time. Ironically enough, they celebrate Thanksgiving in every way like us. They give thanks, feel themselves lucky to be alive here, in the United States. May we feel the same gratitude for our life, for our family and friends, for kindness that has been shown us over many years. For breath.