I couldn't have foreseen all the good things that have followed my mother's death. The renewed energy, the surprising sweetness of grief. The tenderness I feel for strangers on walkers. The deeper love I have for my siblings and friends. The desire to play the mandolin. The gift of a visitation.

Be kind to your knees, you’ll miss them when they’re gone.

The secret to happiness, at Thanksgiving or any time, is to find pleasure in imperfection.

The Thanksgiving meal should not be treated as a grad school exam or an Olympic dive. Whatever you cook will be good enough - unless you make that Twinkie turkey stuffing we're suddenly hearing too much about.

The soul-sucking activity of TV-watching feels better when it is done with other souls.

Replace the words "have to" with "get to" and watch how the cold rain on your life changes to sunshine.

The secret to happiness, at Thanksgiving or any time, is to reframe obligation as opportunity. You don't have to spend Thanksgiving with your family. You get to.