I’m up early this day before Thanksgiving, getting ready for what promises to be a very busy day.

Staying true to my journalistic traits, I’ve put off going to the grocery store until the day before Thanksgiving. Now, I’ll have to go before work, then come back home to put the groceries up before driving to may office in Port Arthur.

Looks like I’m not yet prepared for the big Thanksgiving feast at my daughter’s house. Fact is, I’ve not even prepared the grocery list. I’m just now looking at cookbooks, searching through the pages for quick and easy recipes.

I’ve been assigned a vegetable dish, a dessert and an appetizer. My daughter Kelly will do the rest — thank goodness because I don’t cook much these days.

But, the meal will come together. It always does in Kelly’s capable hands. I have watched her mature into a young lady, a wife, and now a mother with her own household to run — something that I vaguely recall doing myself many years ago.

Now, at a half-century old, I am the oldest, the matriarch of my small family living here in the Golden Triangle.

As such, I get the honor of blessing the food. I’ve so much to be thankful for this year that the food may get cold before I’m through with my prayer.

Most importantly, I am thankful for my family. For the first time in about six or seven years both my son, Michael, and my daughter will be with me on Thanksgiving. We’ve been apart for a very long time, so this holiday is very special for all of us.

And, there’s Addie, my beautiful, vivacious 1-year-old granddaughter who brings such joy to my life each and every day.

I can’t forget may son-in-law Chris. Through his actions he has shown his love for my daughter and her family over and over this past year.

I am thankful for my job, and for my co-workers, who are more like family than fellow employees of the paper.

I am blessed with a garage apartment in downtown Orange. I’ve lived there nearly a year now. It’s small — Realtors, I believe would call it cozy. I call it mine.

Every day while driving through Bridge City on my way to work, I pass beautiful homes on the bayou. Though I hate to admit it, there were days when I coveted those lovely homes , imagining myself living there. At the time, my garage apartment paled in comparison.

But, that was before Ike taught me a lesson I hope I never forget.

Though downtown Orange flooded, my upstairs home was high and dry — safe from the flood waters that destroyed so many homes in the area. Since Ike struck, I continue to drive through Bridge City, but am now thankful for what God has given me.