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.