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This morning, instead of our usual routine of putting the turkey in the oven and bringing a TV into the kitchen, instead of watching the Macy’s parade with the volume turned low so Ken can discuss the upcoming football games he looks forward to after dinner, instead of having the house slowly fill up with the smells of roasted bird and homemade stuffing, chicken and dumplings, and one of my favorites, the smell of cranberry sauce bubbling on the stove before it’s poured into containers and set in the refrigerator to cool, instead of all that, this morning we sat at IHOP and while J (our 4 year old) enjoyed his pancakes, Ken and I split a Colorado omelet.

The meal was oddly quiet. No talk of football, not much more than an occasional “I’ll miss you.” “I’ll miss you, too.”

The last minute call we’d hoped to get hadn’t come through. Ken’s office was having a problem overseas, and he is the man they turn to when no one else can get things to work. So we’d decided to have breakfast out in preparation to seeing Ken off on his flight.

Thanksgiving’s always been a special time for us. Eleven years ago, on Thanksgiving day, Ken proposed to me while I was sitting in the garden swing at my parent’s house. He knelt and put one knee in the mud (it had rained the day before) and asked if I’d marry him. Right about then, I looked up to see my parents, my godmother, my grandmother and great aunt, several of the neighbors, and my brothers (with their guitars) all standing on the porch, watching. I answered “Yup.” Seriously! I didn’t believe it until Ken showed me later on the videotape. I think that was because I was trying not to laugh. My brothers had started serenading us, singing, “When I’m 64″ by the Beetles. Only they didn’t know the words, so they were making up most of the verses.

I can’t imagine a more perfect way to be asked to spend your life with someone. Or for my family to have shown that they approved of Ken. They were notoriously hard to impress. I can’t think of another guy I’d brought home that everyone approved of. Even though I’d only met Ken the Friday before, he’d already won all of our hearts.

Well, I only met him in person that Friday. We’d known each other online for about 4 months, after first meeting in a Christian chat room on MSN. We’d actually known since September that we were probably going to get married…and considering that we were averaging over $1000 a month in phone bills, plus IMing and talking in the chat room, we knew each other fairly well, even if we hadn’t seen each other yet.

My mom knew before hand how important Ken was to me…she’d helped me take pictures that I had then put off sending, afraid that he’d take a look and run (self-confidence has always been on of my weak points). I think she felt a bit sorry for him too, especially after he sent me pictures and I told him he looked uncomfortable in his dress shirt, that it was too tight, and he needed to get a new one (being opinionated has never been one of my weak points).

We lived across the country from each other. Even after we were engaged, we only got together twice before the wedding. I flew to the Midwest to meet his family over Christmas, and he came down for Valentine’s and spent a week. Our wedding was in April, and I don’t think either of us could have stood waiting much longer. We’d almost eloped after Christmas as it was.

Ever since, if at all possible, we don’t spend nights away from each other. When we do have to be apart, neither of us gets much sleep. There’s an empty space on the bed that doesn’t feel right.