Home to Maine last week was a welcome respite from the quick, unrelenting pace of Washington life. My job had crescendoed in many unexpected ways and I desperately needed a softer tempo to ease the tension. I needed some of that simple sameness that going home always affords. I awoke Wednesday morning to a heaving snowfall, a perfect change from the still humid climes of Virginia.
We have a quiet, lovely thanksgiving with all the same traditions - the parade, hor d'oeuvres at noon, dinner at four, a walk with the lanthorn (old-fashioned word for lantern) after dinner, and enjoying pie and Miracle on 34th Street (the newer version).
It felt so very good to be home with the people (and the animals!) that know me best.