With mass media warning us that we have a mere four weeks (less one day) between Thanksgiving and Christmas, our “Holiday Season” is on the skimpy side this year. This had me worried.
So the morning before Thanksgiving, when I realized I needed “just one more thing” from the supermarket, I’ll admit it made me a little cranky. Time was short, and no matter how many lists and checking it twice I did, that bottle of molasses I thought was residing in the back of the cupboard was nowhere in sight.
Already feeling the pinch of the holiday rush, I hit the supermarket, and that bottle of molasses turned into a grocery cart’s worth of stuff. Taking the corners with my cart on two wheels, I rocketed to the baking aisle and was pleasantly surprised to find an old friend already there perusing the shelves.
Now it wasn’t that we weren’t both busy or feeling rushed. It was the day before Thanksgiving after all. But that slowing down for a few moments was what I needed most it seems. And perhaps she did, too.
So there in the middle of the baking aisle, Monique and I briefly caught up with a “speed dating” version of the status of family and health, travel and time and how there is never enough of it.
Perhaps it was because of the season, but we didn’t get a single grumpy stare from any of the shoppers who wheeled carts in and out between us, threading their own way down the aisle. Most gave us a smile or murmured a “Happy Thanksgiving” before journeying on their way.
With a quick hug in parting, Monique continued on her way, and I found the molasses. Arriving at the check out counter, the clerks were especially cheery, despite the rush of the season bearing down upon us all.
Thanking the young man who bagged my groceries but declining his offer of help to my car, I wheeled my cart through the doors. An elderly gentleman was making his way inside, his uncertain legs wobbly beneath him. I recognized in his face the look of pain from a back no longer young and of feet no longer nimble.
His aches didn’t stop him, though, from a smile and a hearty, “Good morning! Happy Thanksgiving!” as he passed. It seemed the whole world was catching the spirit of the season.
Tossing my bags into the back of my hatchback, I heard a decidedly feminine voice shout out from a passing automobile. “Hey, lady!” she called. Turning, I registered a large SUV idling there, and then I recognized the driver was Michelle, one of my daughter’s oldest friends. They met in junior high school and became buddies, the friendship continuing through high school and, later, college when my daughter moved to Arizona and Michelle moved even further away to complete veterinarian school.
I darted over to greet her and found her two little girls snugly fastened into their car seats in back. They waved a cheery hello, Emma with her mama’s dimples and happy disposition and little Nora, her chubby hand a baby starfish with waggly fingers stretched open wide.
A decidedly better mood was upon me during my drive home. How marvelous that a simple outing could turn my day around in such a positive way. I knew back at home the TV was frenetic with news of Black Friday Door Busters, the shortness of the holiday season and whether stores should open on Thanksgiving. But for a little while, I was reminded in a most enjoyable way what the season really means.
So with this abbreviated holiday season now truly upon us, this year I am committing to a “giving season,” even when time seems short. Because something as simple as a greeting from a stranger, a hug from a friend or a chance meeting in the parking lot tells us life is good – and giving that spirit away to others touches many hearts, generating a spark of thankfulness to last all year long.

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