Thanksgiving is do much better without a downer like Mr. Hyde. No smirks or snickers about my creative touches.
No withering glances over the hand-gilded 107 year-old Limoges china I thrifted.
No start of an ulcer to be bothered by a chilled mimosa.
No eyerolling to hurt my feelings for the centerpiece I arranged from greenery on the property.
No cold, empty phone conversations with his family.
Best of all, no forcing myself to feel thankful for someone who made me feel so awful. Instead I am authentically grateful for God taking us out of an abusive household.