On the first day of December, I started off the morning at Anniston High School with a performance of “The Nutcracker” ballet for area schoolkids. Every year, Knox Concert Series invites hundreds of third-graders to see the ballet for free.

Among my many fond memories of Thanksgivings past are my mother’s cornbread dressing, my aunt’s monkey bread, my cousins and I fighting over the wishbone, and the panicked look in my eyes if I was ever asked to say grace.

When I was in elementary school, shopping for school supplies meant running up to the five-and-dime store on the corner for a Big Chief writing tablet and a pencil box.

Outside my kitchen door are several abandoned flower pots, some still filled with potting soil. When I glanced at one of the pots recently, I noticed something growing in it. It was a healthy-looking plant with pretty green leaves, arranged in threes.