A Week of Imperfect Consistency, Sweet Memories, and Deep Gratitude
I’ll be honest — consistency was not my strong suit this week. I had every intention of sticking to my routine, but life had other plans. A doctor’s appointment, Thanksgiving preparations, a Friendsgiving I was supposed to attend, and even a memorial service… it all stacked up quickly.
In the end, I didn’t make it to either the Friendsgiving or the memorial service. I woke up with a migraine — one of those “thank you, fall weather” migraines that completely derail the whole day. So instead of people and plans, I surrendered to rest when my body demanded it.
And once the fog lifted, I did what brings me comfort: I headed to the kitchen.
With apples, pumpkins, and pears staring me down, I rolled up my sleeves and lost myself in the rhythm of cooking for the people I love. Apple pie. Pear tart. Pumpkin pie. As the dough came together under my hands, memories surfaced — childhood flashes of rolling out pie crusts with my mom and my Granny. Bittersweet moments. Warm hands guiding mine. Laughter. Flour everywhere.
I thought of them as my crust came out buttery, flaky, and honestly… perfect. That quiet pride felt like a little hug from the past.
Then came the Lemon Delight — the recipe taught to me by my former mother-in-law, Debbie, who learned it from her mother-in-law, Margaret. Generations of women passing down love through something as simple as dessert. I could hear Debbie’s voice reminding me that you just can’t mess up Lemon Delight. It’s simple, forgiving, and always delicious — a lot like the lessons she gave me.
As I stirred, baked, and tasted my way through the day, I found myself whispering quiet gratitude:
Here’s to my Mom.
Here’s to my Granny.
Here’s to Debbie and Margaret.
Here’s to the women who came before me, who made the dishes their families loved, and who poured themselves — heart and soul — into every meal.
Today, I honor them. I thank them for the love, the memories, the laughter, and the skills that let me move through a kitchen with confidence and purpose. Even in the darkest seasons of life, feeding the people I love anchors me. It gives me something solid to stand on.
I hope your Thanksgiving was full of warmth, good food, gentle moments, and the people who matter most. And if your week looked a little imperfect like mine? That’s okay. Life happens.
Here’s to being present anyway — in the kitchen, in the memories, and in the moments that matter.
Mothersense and Miscellaneous 