My family’s on the East Coast, so Thanksgiving on the West Coast has basically become a tradition of two: me and my dog. Every year we start the morning at a nearby elder care home (specifically the memory unit).

The residents don’t always remember each other, or the day, or that they’ve met my dog before. But he walks in and people who’ve been quiet for hours will reach out, smile, or say his name. It always makes me smile, because it’s this tiny proof that recognition isn’t just a cognitive thing. Sometimes the body remembers what the mind misplaces. You can forget almost everything and still respond to gentleness.

Afterward we went on our fav hike by my apt. It’s our way of resetting the day decompressing without saying anything, just walking until the noise in my head matches the quiet outside.

Anyway, here’s the tiny high five. A small ritual in a day full of them.

Happy Thanksgiving.