I'm sitting on my couch, drinking a cup of tulsi peppermint tea and writing. 

I've spent the day with my mother and sister cooking for our big feast tomorrow: we made pies and cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes, brined the turkey, and even had time to sneak in some yoga, playtime with my sister's dogs, and pumpkin cider sipping at lunch. 

It was a wonderful day, the kind that revolved around kitchen and conversation.  It was made even more delicious by the fact that I took the day off school to help prepare this Thanksgiving meal.  I woke up feeling like a kid playing hooky, knowing full well that while I was out having fun, the rest of the world was at school (to my fanciful mind at least).

In the quiet of this evening, I realize thankfulness is an art form, best expressed in the simple actions of making cranberry sauce with both tangerine and orange slices in it because you know that's how your family likes it.  Thankfulness is in setting the table just so with the fine china, napkin rings, and homemade place cards for the people you love.  You can find it in your kitchen smelling of freshly baked pies, a heavenly scent for those coming home from work, a perfect perfume promising a day full of nourishment and relaxation.  It is the basket of herbs shared between mothers and daughters or the gift packages sent to those away from home.  All these things are tokens of thankfulness, letting those around you know that you are grateful they are in your life. 

Tomorrow I will continue to celebrate my thankfulness--for my family, my friends, my readers--and relish the gravy-making and the dishwashing for what they are: acts of thankfulness in their purest form.