Of you who have been my backbone this past year — or the vertebrae contributing to my standing up and walking tall — I mean you all — my family, my friends, those of you I met this year and last, the ones who’ve known me all my life and the ones I feel like I’ve known all my life, even if I haven’t.
The soul is whole. The book, being written. The degree’s done, and I am smitten by the enduring glory of an Ontario summer that still fights valiantly to give us a few more days of patio pleasure before we are enflamed by autumn’s leafy treasures of red and rust and brown and yellow.
On this Thanksgiving, I have much to be grateful for. Especially for you.