Six Years Now

Every Thanksgiving I thank my lucky stars.  It’s been six years, over the Thanksgiving weekend, that Bugsy gamboled into my life and changed it forever.

Bugs looks back.

Five years ago I started this blog. (It only took me one year to start.)

Barney wonders what was the hold-up?

Four years ago I noticed that Thanksgiving tends to be a time of remembrance for loss, as well as for gain.

Never mind that, where’s my treat?

Three years ago I noticed that Thanksgiving tends to be a time of thanksgiving. I like what I wrote back then:  Bugsy “makes me feel love wash through me like I was transparent.”  Still true, if not more so.

Two years ago I failed to notice the anniversary altogether. The bar exam must have stunned all sense out of me.

Last year’s post I wrote amidst snow and the boys fighting.

Boys not fighting.

And this year, six years since Bugsy’s arrival, I am starting to put my injured foot down and to wean myself off the crutches. Remember me sleeping with a box over my uncast broken foot, scared to death that Bugs would jump on it? Recently I put the box away, feeling confident enough without it.

This morning Bugs was pissy that I hadn’t yet got around to making his breakfast – by 5:30 a.m. He jumped on my injured foot.

I rejoice to report that I was fine. Scared and freaked out – but fine.

Things are looking up.

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