Thinking about the weeks ahead, I tremble. “The future always scares me,” I whisper. “How can I celebrate it?”
While I crouched in the dark, empty glade, a whiskered breeze brushed past my ears and stirred a memory of my grandfather’s gentle voice. “Our traditions call us to celebrate, for we have much to be thankful.”
Renewed, I stand. My heart musters joy, not from an unknown future, but a present full of gratitude.