“How many children do you have?” he asked as we rounded a corner. I held onto my hat, wishing that I had a helmet instead.
“None!” I shouted over the rumbling of the motor, my words carried away by the cool morning air as it whipped hair into my face.
“That’s a lot!”
I thought he was being sarcastic.
He thought I had said NINE. I figured it out when he asked their names…
We were on the way to Angkor Wat just after sunrise and I was clinging to the seat of the moped trying not to fall off. I was taking a break from the villages and arsenic and sickness and poverty.
What does this have to do with Thanksgiving, you ask?
I have always hated this holiday. I do. It reminds me of how much everyone in my family hates each other. I find it hard to be joyful, even though I have a ton to be thankful for.
BUT that trip to Cambodia… When I got a glimpse of extreme human suffering and saw that there can still be JOY in hearts and laughter on faces and kindness, something like a bit of family friction gets put into perspective.
So on this day may you all be reminded of your blessings as I am.