On Thursday evening, I spent the night at my grandparents house.
In the room where I have slept one hundred times - the same creaks and pops, the same soft linens and pillows, the same trains whistling.
But with my child nestled beside me.
I lay watching the car lights chase across the wall feeling as safe as I did as a child. The walls - three bricks deep - built with my grandfather's and great grandfather's hands over 50 years ago. Blanketed under quilts hand-stitched by generations of my grandmothers and aunts.
My baby breathed heavily as I recognized my Thanksgiving was coming to a sleepy end with my grandparents just feet away. Thankful for the health of both sets of my grandparents still living and healthy. My parents, my brother and sister-in-law, my nephews, my aunts and uncles, cousins...
Safe and warm with the next generation sleeping soundly wrapped in the same hand-crafted love.