En route to l’aéroport to pick up Maman, this truck passed me.

I thought at first I was seeing things, so I quickly sped up and turns out my vision was just fine. I really was seeing the word, GRACE staring back at me, granted, with a half faded “R”.

The remainder of my airport drive, I spent contemplating grace.

Frankly, I’ve never really understood the word. Even when used in conceptual terms, such as, giving grace or extending grace or living with more grace.

I associate grace with elegance and beauty, a graciousness so to speak. It’s a word that comes to mind when I think of Maman. Because, obvs, she is all of these things.

To my surprise, when I started asking family and friends today how they define grace, they, too, stumbled and stammered along. Ah ha! So I’m not the oddball out for once.

I decided to come to everyone’s rescue and answered for myself.

To me, grace is more an association I have with living presently, mindfully and in an open state. It’s forgiving and forgetting and letting everyone just be. An allowing. That’s it … grace to me, is allowing. Of ourselves and each other.

I wish you all a Thanksgiving full of good food, laughter and your People. And grace, too. Lots of that.