Thanksgiving @ Grandma's house

I love Thanksgiving week. I may even becoming more fond of it than Christmas week. I love the fall colors, and seeing the leaves dance down the street in the wind. It is a season thick with nostalgia for me. This year, even moreso. It is the first year that there won't be an enormous gathering of Walker relatives at 519 B Street for Thanksgiving dinner. More importantly, my Grandma, Beth Walker, won't be at 519 B Street for Thanksgiving. She has popped in and out of my thoughts the last two weeks. The closing hymn last week Sunday was "Love at Home"; I was singing my solid alto, but as we began the last verse, I suddenly remembered singing this with all my grown cousins at her funeral in February. Tears filled my eyes and I had to stop singing - not out of sadness, but just missing her, and remembering the potent spirit that was a part of her funeral services. Today, driving home from Target, my 4-year old son Christian pipes up from the back of van, "Mom, you know what? We haven't seen Grandma Beth in a long, long time". This came from completely out of the blue. I asked him, "Christian, do you remember that Grandma Beth is in heaven now?". He answered, "Yes. I remember we visited her and she gave us balloons to play with" (he was two, which makes this all the more remarkable). It was a sweet moment; of course, it makes me wonder where his little 4-year old mind was traipsing about to be thinking of her, too. She was an amazing matriarch of the family. How we miss her, especially this week.