When you rise in the morning,
give thanks for the light, for your life, for your strength.
Give thanks for your food and for the joy of living.
If you see no reason to give thanks, the fault lies in yourself.
I watched my son shrug on his heavy coat and slip into his backpack, just a bit harried, almost but not quite late for the morning bus as usual, as every day. “If I make a special meal for Thanksgiving tonight, will you stay in and eat with us? Can you plan it into your schedule?” I inquired. “I don’t know,” he puffs, one foot already out the door. “I don’t know what I’m doing tonight yet but I’ll let you know.” Today is just another weekday, a Thursday, a middle-of-the-week, work-and-school-as-usual day in France. As it has been for the more than twenty-six years that I have lived here with my French family. So it is no wonder that we do not celebrate Thanksgiving.