After my divorce, the holidays became a challenging time for me and my 7-year-old son, Austin. Our small Minnesota home, once filled with joy, felt quiet and heavy with unspoken worries. As Thanksgiving approached, I knew I couldn’t provide the kind of celebration Austin deserved, and it broke my heart.
When my ex-husband, Roy, offered to host Thanksgiving with his new wife, Jill, I reluctantly agreed. Jill’s picture-perfect demeanor often left me feeling inadequate, but I knew Austin deserved the warmth of a festive holiday, even if I couldn’t provide it this year.
Thanksgiving at their home was straight out of a holiday movie. The table was adorned with golden candles and a feast that could rival any magazine spread. Jill had invited me to join them, and though I felt out of place, I went for Austin’s sake.
“Mom, look at the turkey! And Jill made cranberry tarts—they’re so good!” Austin exclaimed, his excitement bittersweet for me.
During dinner, Austin expressed his gratitude, saying how much he loved being at their home. When he said, “I want to live here all the time,” my heart ached. I wondered if I was losing my place in his life.
Continue reading on next page…