I got the most ridiculous letter in the mail on Monday. The author was a doctor whose care I came under last summer (2008, to be clear). She said she hoped the letter found me well. She informed me that due to 60 days of inactivity, she was closing my file. At first I was dismissive, ridiculing the correspondence because I’d actually been inactive for over 6 months and the bitch was LATE. But, the more I made fun of it, the more I thought about what it meant. My file was closed. It was CLOSED. And that stupid piece of paper morphed into a certificate of accomplishment. This morning I dug out my emergency stash of medication and threw it all away.

Thanksgiving. That’s today. We’re excited about it. That’s the royal “we”, man. A lot of people aren’t, though. There’s a certain dread a lot of folks feel around the holidays. I know because I talk to a lot of people and most of them have horror stories ready for the sharing. On the surface, folks spin yarns to entertain, but it’s all deeply rooted in emotions and personal truths. We laugh, wave a hand and utter cheerful exclamations. Then we sigh and think while we sip our beverage, waiting for someone else to tell a chuckler. And we’ve all got ‘em. But that’s not the important part of this paragraph. The important part is the thinking.

In between the stories and the laughs I’ll think about that letter; about the journey to which that letter vaguely refers, and to the ending that it signifies. And I will be thankful for it, among many, many other things.

Happy Thanksgiving to all.