I love fall. I love the colors and the smells, the cool nights and warm days. I love hot drinks and making pumpkin bread. Last fall was one of my favorite and last Thanksgiving holds some of my sweetest memories. It was my ideal. Our family provided all the pies for both of our families. I don’t remember how many pies we made, but it was a lot. Each of my children had a special part in the creation of all those pies and the day we spent together was beautiful, full of family and games and laughter.
This year was different. There were no colors, no hot drinks, and none of the right smells. When I started the long process of making pumpkin pies from scratch, my children were not to be found. It was the day before Thanksgiving and I was standing in the kitchen missing just about everything and everyone in my life.
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