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The New Thanksgiving

Minus our son who was jogging in place in his underwear and who’d already spent two-seconds on his bed time prayer, we had our eyes closed.

Sort of.

My husband was the last to pray. At which time he droned from the doorway his gratitude for this and that.

“…and thank you for this holiday,” he said.

Only he might have added more if our daughter hadn’t clarified with gusto, “which is called Black Friday!”

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