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earlier burfling | later burfling

Home from the feasting

'Twas a small feast, as feasts go; still, my mother, my two brothers and I did manage to demolish turkey and potatoes and stuffing and carrots and string beans and onions and rolls and fruit cup and soup and brownies and apple pie and pumpkin pie and little custard tarts with strawberries and blueberries and bits of kiwi fruit and many many many nom-nom-nom-type noises.

I give thanks that we do this as a family. For all our faults and foibles, we still gather together, sharing the cooking as well as the eating, without the agonies that too many other families suffer in each others' presence.

I give thanks that, while there are real problems in my life, those problems pale in comparison to what they might be. I have a safe place to live, plentiful food to eat, clean water to drink, work that I find rewarding, and friends and family both near and far.

Not too shabby, this life of mine. Not perfect by any means, but not too shabby. Thank you, all, for letting me share it with you. And thank you for sharing yours with me.