Sunday, November 18, 2012; 5:15 AM
Unable to sleep attempting to visualize how thirty-two people will be comfortable and well-fed this coming Thursday, I cuddle up under my favorite quilt on my bedroom loveseat and disappear into Amos Oz’s Scenes from Village Life.
This may be the best view in the loft. From the right window, I see the striking colors of the sunrise. The view ahead is the housetops towered by the top of the Birmingham Bridge. The left window offers a peak of the green Casmir Church dome backed by the tips of downtown buildings.
Family photos line the cross beam of the ceiling surrounding me with love. Uncle Phil’s corner peacefully anchors the space. The IKEA lamp salvaged from the dumpster makes a soft halo of light.
My circa 1987 quilt table that continually finds it way back to me, supports my warm beverage that Steve lovely prepared and served, just like having breakfast in bed.
The pillows at my head are well-known, friendly t-shirts. The loveseat is upholstered in textured threads of my favorite crewel fabric. The warmth of my best memory quilt is the icing on the cake.
Maybe if I stay here long enough Thanksgiving will take care of itself.