I stood on the tarmac and watched my uncle pilot the red belly of the plane right into the blue, floating to a pencil point while we drove pavement back home. Pulled bins labeled mantle and living room from the attic and twinkled branches until sunset. Sat round four plates of turkey and cranberry on white thankful.

H chased the boy round the house with pumpkin pie hands, bearded his face whipped cream. And we laughed silly over it all.

We’re eating the leftovers from the miracle of last week. And they still taste like they were pulled right from the oven.

Sometimes awe looks like the crumbs on your plate and smile on your face, the way her chest rises and falls on the couch covered up in a blanket in the middle of the day.

What does it look like at your house?

Happy Sunday Friends!