I spent the days leading up to Thanksgiving thinking about how it’s quickly becoming my favorite holiday. I decided in the middle of last week that I was going to spend four whole days quietly thinking about what I was thankful for and that I would report back here with some new found illumination on the meaning of life. It was going to be like a Sophia Coppola movie with a sleepy soundtrack – I had it all planned out.
But just when I started to take myself a little too seriously, I went from a Sophia Coppola film to a John Hughes flick and fell into the lake with my sister and 3-year-old nephew. It was a series of events led to our Thanksgiving baptism of sorts – it started with Tara insisting I get in the kayak with her followed by Jeremy insisting that we all load up in the kayak together on the bank of the lake excited to give us a bold send-off into the lake. And with one good push we rolled into the lake.
I was so present in that moment – I remember thinking how perfect it was that we were being dunked into a cold lake on Thanksgiving day. And in that split second, just before we hit the water, I swear I found the meaning of life.