Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Tanya Writes About The Pumpkin Patch, Thanksgiving, and well, giving thanks.

Ah, something there is about a child at a pumpkin patch. That goal to get the perfect golden orb. The search, as vital as a long-ago quest for the Holy Grail.

And all of this happening on a blue and gold fall day makes the best memory. --especially when Gramma and Grampa are along for the ride.

The ride this day was on an antique train that took us from Fillmore far out into the country. The grandbaby sat across from me in the red velvet seat cuddling with his grampa. (Their bond is so incredible; I get tears.)

"Choo choo move," he told me earnestly. At the sound of the clang at the crossing, his little mouth made a perfect O; his tiny fingers at his ears.

"Trees!" he shouted in glee as we travelled along. "Bridge" as we crossed a creek.

Once there, there was no stopping the little guy. Scarecrows, cornstalks higher than his tall handsome daddy. Merry-go-round and hoppity-hop balls. And pumpkins big as moons. Of course he ran to the largest one, threw his arms around it...and was steered to one more his size. (You could select any size but had to take it yourself on your lap back on the train. In this case, size did matter.)

The little fam posed atop one for a portrait that's making its way into my Christmas letter. Toddlers everywhere flew past, gabbing in their adorably peculiar wordless language.

For lunch, the grandbaby devoured a cob of corn, his tiny perfect teeth gnawing with gusto. His mommy laughed, the afternoon breeze blowing her blond hair across her pretty face. "I didn't know he'd like it so much. And now corn season is all but over."

But we did manage some corn for Thanksgiving dinner. A day of days to thank God for health, for salvation, for the strength He gave us to get through this past year. To thank Him for the presence and safe travels of our new in-laws-to-be.

Last January, when my hero's cancer diagnosis hit us like bricks in the chest, he held me and said, "I want to watch that little boy grow up. I want to walk my daughter down the aisle someday."

He's getting his wish. He's well. The grandbaby is growing like a weed...two years old next week. And our daughter got engaged last Friday in The Most Romantic Proposal Ever.

So much to be thankful for. So much to look forward to.

So much more life to live.

Up next: The Most Romantic Proposal Ever

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