As Thanksgiving approaches, I’ve been reflecting on the pieces of my life that steady me — not the big milestones, but the familiar threads that show up quietly and consistently.
My daughter is at the heart of so much of that. Her creativity, her spark, the way she fills a room with her whole being — it reminds me so much of my mom. Seeing pieces of my mom’s spirit shine through her feels like a gift that keeps unfolding.
My husband and I make our way through the ups, downs, and everyday chaos as best we can. Even in the messiest moments, we still manage to find humor and connection, and those small moments matter.
Pepper, my sweet cat, has been a steady comfort these past few months. He curls up beside me with this quiet intuition, sensing when I need closeness and stillness. It’s such a simple thing, but it means the world.
My mother-in-law adds her own cadence to our home — sharing stories from her past, helping in ways that fit her rhythm. Her presence brings another layer of family history into our days.
I think about my dad’s persistence often. His determination, his practicality, the way he keeps moving forward — it’s shaped me more than I realized. And my step-mom’s gentle, thoughtful spirit has added kindness and steadiness to my life in a way I deeply appreciate.
My brothers, Tony and Carl, always manage to bring our childhood back to life — the games, the jokes, the adventures that still make us laugh. Those memories feel like little anchors to where we came from.
There’s also a softer, more tender gratitude this year. Losing my Aunt Glenda and Uncle Nicky left an ache, but also a deep appreciation for the years I had with them. They were an extension of my mom and Nana — warm, loving, familiar. Their influence is something I still carry.
And through it all, my mom’s joy, humor, and warmth continue to echo through my life. I feel her in the way I parent, the way I create, the way I show up in the world. That connection is something I treasure more with each passing year.
My art is where all these threads come together — memory, emotion, gratitude — settling into color and form.
This season doesn’t ask for perfection. Just presence. And when I take a moment to look around, there’s so much here worth holding close.
