Today is Thanksgiving, and I’m intensely aware of being thankful . I’ve been remembering three years ago. We were moving. Our son and his family were moving. A baby was on her way, and my full-of-life father-in-law had died. Stress levels were off the chart since we were ticking way too many stress boxes. I remember being sad and afraid, angry and crying, but also very grateful to have my kids and grandkids all living in the same town. In our fluid world, this is a rare blessing. The dust has settled – as much as it can in Central Oregon – but there’s stuff. There always is, right? While standing in line at Trader Joe’s on Sunday afternoon, I watched people. The scene was alive, buzzing and organic. Noise levels were high; the place was crammed. The bustle made me happy. And, I thought, what stories do these people have? The guy checking my groceries said he was single, had been invited to join friends for Thanksgiving, but wasn’t sure. He saw too much dram...