We are in a holding pattern. Maintaining The Boy's privacy, it will suffice to say he is not living with us at the moment. We sent him a card for Thanksgiving because he will not be home. It had a joke about a turkey crossing the road to get to a side dish. He had the grace to say that our family really likes "jokes like that" instead of labeling it lame. I so wish he were going to be with us, but there are circumstances beyond any hint of my control that require otherwise.
He is changing, maturing, growing... and there is a bittersweet joy in these changes. It is bitter to be apart from him, but incredibly sweet to see him, hear him, and dream of him returning to our home. In the meantime, I can send him goofy cards that are no longer really right for him. Because he is shedding his adolescent goofiness like the ugly duckling morphing into a swan.
So. Tomorrow we will celebrate Thanksgiving with our loved ones sans one. We will miss him. There will be too much cranberry sauce without him at the table to inhale the stuff, and an undercurrent of sadness and longing running beneath the thanksgiving and celebration slated for the day. Still, we give thanks nonetheless.