Another Thanksgiving in Budapest.
A day of gratefulness and family (where my children and husband never hear me yell, "Just get out of the kitchen!").
And now, more than ever, a time with friends, pulling together stuffing and mashed potatoes, conferring over turkey baking techniques in the kitchen.
Last year it felt a little strange and sad, but this year it started to feel normal. Of course I miss home and family, Thanksgiving parades and dozing on the couch while football announcers drone on in the background. But I am thankful to be here.
I am thankful for home.
I am thankful for the feeling of home, that it is more connected to my husband and kids than any particular place in the world.
I am thankful for this city at night, for the magic it holds all lit up against the navy sky.
I am thankful for Starbucks at Christmas time, that while I pay almost double what I did in the States, it is so worth it to hold that warm, red cup in my hands and gaze out the white, decaled windows at the busy city passing us by.
I am thankful for warm snuggles on chilly mornings.
I am thankful that I'm a grown up and can eat candy before dinner (though I am back to sneaking it quietly in the corner of the kitchen).
I am thankful for my hard-working husband.
I am thankful that at least once a day someone runs to the bathroom yelling "Poo poo!" like it's a national emergency.
I am thankful for little superheroes who climb my fingerprint-covered windows, shooting webs and ice from their tiny hands and jumping unabashedly from the couch, sure that one day they will take flight.
I am thankful that in 4 months we will add one more superhero to our collection.
I am thankful for tiny feet jolting my belly, and for little hands pressing in from the outside.
I am thankful for this busy, growing, boy-filled family of mine.
And I'm thankful that we're crazy enough to keep adding to it.