Not the kind of cold that bites—just enough to make the windows fog at the edges and the house feel smaller, warmer, fuller. I woke up before sunrise out of habit, tied my hair back, and stood in the kitchen staring at the turkey like it was a math problem.
Bigger bird. More mouths.
Same budget.
I did what I always did.
Adjusted.
More stuffing. Extra potatoes. Stretch the gravy. Add another pie—pumpkin filling goes further than apple. I had learned over the years that abundance isn’t about having more. It’s about making what you have feel like more.
By noon, the house smelled like butter and sage and something steady.
Safe.
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