Happy Thanksgiving, sort of.

Dear Viktoria,

This is day 3 post-Thanksgiving. I'm sure Germany has something similar, but the origin of America's Thanksgiving came from the Pilgrims. The Pilgrims left England so they could freely practice their religion; they came to America in the 1600's. Their first Thanksgiving was celebrated in 1621, with the Indians, after a particularly successful crop was harvested. It was a day of recognizing their blessings and giving thanks to God.

Today, in modern America, it is still a day of Thanksgiving, but with a lot of commercialism thrown in.

As a kid, I remember Thanksgiving as a day watching my mom in the kitchen preparing our meal, with my dad and brother going out for part of the day to hunt. They were probably hunting quail and squirrel...just small stuff that day. In my mind, I can see them standing outside in their hunting clothes cleaning the kill. I was glad it wasn't me! It was always cold, and I couldn't bear to see the dead animals. My grandma (my dad's mom) always ate with us as she lived in the same town. After my grandma moved into a nursing home, my mother also brought another elderly woman over whose family did not include her in their Thanksgiving celebration. It made my mom very sad so she did something about it. I loved that about her. Sometimes we had visits from aunts, uncles and cousins from my dad's side. I was usually sent out a couple of days before the holiday to cut boughs from a neighbors cedar tree (with her blessing of course) and my dad and brother always brought home hedgeballs. Nana decorated with these natural, outdoorsy things. After your grandpa and I got married, we spent every Thanksgiving with my parents. Those were very happy times. In my parents later years I took over the Thanksgiving Day hosting and eventually developed our menu that we continue to today. It's the traditions that carry us from year to year. Since my brother, your Great Uncle Jamie, lives a long ways away, we usually have our kids and grandpa's family over. The preparation is a lot of work, but worth it.

Unfortunately your dad wasn't able to join us this year, 2012. He is at his new base, Ft. Bliss and only has 4 days off, so decided to stay there but come home for Christmas. It's been 10 years since we've spent a Thanksgiving together. It makes me sad, but my thankfulness of having him, and you, outweigh my sadness. I was relieved when he met some other military families at his apartment complex and spent Thanksgiving with them. I wondered what you were doing on this day, but knew it was just another day for you. Maybe you will spend Thanksgiving with us in the future, maybe lots and lot of them. Yesterday, your dad got to Skype with you for a long time. That made his entire weekend! He misses you so much.

We count our blessings on Thanksgiving, and I count you as one of greatest. My grandchildren - you and your cousins, Declan and the new one on the way (Aunt Alyssa is a few weeks from having her second baby)  You are a precious child and I love you very much.

Happy Thanksgiving, Viktoria!

Mema

Today, I cried.

I cried alone, in the shower, where no one could hear my weeping or see my tears.

You see, a few days ago your dad left Germany and returned to the United States. It's not what he wanted, it's not what he asked for. He came because he is a man who honors his word and the command of those above him, at a huge personal cost to himself.

Our government has decided that there are too many military personal stationed in Europe and many are being re-stationed in the US. Your dad's brigade is being disbanded and the men and women redistributed, like slow stock in a store. We spoke briefly about how this felt, because he had to be conflicted. On one hand he was leaving you behind, and it was only recently that he was able to spend any real, quality time with you. The timing is unfair and unjust. On the other hand, he would be back in the States, closer to family and friends. I asked him if this was bittersweet. His reply was that it was much more bitter than sweet.

It was only three short weeks ago that I sat on the floor in your mother's apartment in Amberg and watched you and your dad together. You called him dada and wrapped your sweet, skinny arms around his neck. You kissed him. He kissed you back and wiped your runny nose. You had a nasty cold that day. He picked you up and held you upside down as you squealed in delight. You and he ran in circles in the living room, both in your stocking feet. You had a little black and white polka dot dress on with a red shirt and red tights. You were energetic and happy.

So, your dad is back in the states, first spending a few days with one of his brothers, your Uncle Danny, then here, then Texas. I think it's some cushion time between there, and here. Time to sort of re-integrate back into the American lifestyle and pace, and time to grieve without the watchful eyes of those who love him.

He loves you. He misses you.