Transition Thanksgiving

I was trying to remember the last time I was with my family for Thanksgiving, and can't.
New traditions are in the making, ones with dear friends merrily chatting, looking fabulous at whatever four or five star restaurant we chose; and at home, a turkey breast and Paul's delicious cranberry relish for turkey sandwiches on toasted sourdough bread on which to chomp while watching football games.
No arguments. No hysteria. No recriminations about old hurts. No bla bla bla about Jesus while my food's getting cold.
Wise brother Billy observed that the last meaningful family relationship I had in LA died with my Meema late in 1980. I needed twenty additional years of hanging on like the last leaf in late fall before I moved away and started being thankful that I have great friends and no one bothering me during the game.
Gratias, Billy, for wisely observing that change is good.