Two more Fridays will be the Friday before Thanksgiving here.
Seven years of Fridays before Thanksgiving.
The season of golden sunsets and cool evenings. The time of sunshine that is warm on the decaying leaves.
The smell of chimney smoke is not far off and will chase after the aroma of turkey and pie and all the comforting things that make up a Canadian Thanksgiving.
Thanksgiving in my home, in my heart, has a different story now and that story is not comforting. It tells the tale of a beautiful girl who went to sleep and never woke up. It tells of the police officer at the door who was given the task of telling a mother that her daughter would not be with her for Thanksgiving, or any other day. Ever again.
October 7th will be 7 long years of missing you my sweet girl. But it will always be the Friday itself that acts as the separation of Before and After.
In the Wind 