Transitioning Traditions
It was quiet Thanksgiving morning. My kitchen was void of the warmth and scent of stuffing and turkey cooking in the oven. I trudged down the stairs to get the super- ad-stuffed newspaper to peruse while watching the parade. This, the first time it felt like a chore. I felt off – cranky, sad, and alone. My girls were in Texas with their dad and paternal grandparents for the Thanksgiving holiday. I was home alone in Nebraska left with my woe-is-me thoughts as my only comfort. Holidays are hard. This refrain is a reality for most, but not all, divorced
