This is the view outside my window in Philadelphia – The City of Brotherly Love. I grew up not far from this spot in a small town. I traveled here to share Thanksgiving with my family.

Upon stepping on the jet bridge the cold air hit me. My mood was gracious but solemn and reflective. The reasons bringing me east could not be more serious. My workweek leading up to this was full of activity intentionally planned months ago but timed perfectly to keep my head free of over thinking. The cold wind a slap of reality that I should steel myself for whatever the day might bring.

Upon arriving at the hotel I looked out the window to see the forboding skies and the winter that hung over the city. As I made my way to the hospital I felt that same pall come over me as worry set in. I navigated the days challenges well, I think. Sitting in the hotel restaurant I measured the day in doses of love for my Dad. I know now that whenever I think of this Thanksgiving that will be at top of the list. We talked. I held his hand. I watched him consume not one but three desserts and I counted my blessings.

I don’t know what today will hold. This is the time to count steps – even baby ones – as we journey this road together. I do know that today the skies are blue and cloudless and there is a new sentiment – one I like more – Hope.


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