I just read your "Dear Mom", and must write you this letter.

When I saw that I was scheduled to work Thanksgiving Day, I planned to be good natured about it. Many of the patients would be downhearted enough, without my being gloomy. But when it arrived, still it was hard to put on my uniform and go. And because I was preoccupied with not really wanting to get in the car and leave, I took too long getting ready, and in a hurried rush, forgot to take the cell phone.

When I realized it wasn't with me, that worried me some, and believe me, I am very good at unneeded worrying. But work has a way of taking your mind off anything except trying to get it done, and the evening moved on.

Families trailed the halls, needing help with getting their elderly Moms or Dads to and from the car, and I did all I could to make their going a happy time.

But stuck way back in my brain, not far from the worrying about not having the cell phone, was a huge guilt trip I'd laid on myself, for not being at home cooking a great thanksgiving meal for my now very grown children.

On holidays the patients' emotions run high. There's a reason why the umbilical cord is as strong as wildly grown grape vines. The bond it creates needs to last us a lifetime. This is personified sometimes by not very well hidden tears in their eyes, as little old ladies return from family gatherings. For only a few hours they are back where they lived, and turned out remarkable holiday dinners, and the shock of returning to a tiny little room they now call home just makes them very sad.

It does no good to tell them you understand. The last thing they need are words of any kind. What they want is for someone just to listen.

And Barb, that's a little like I was feeling when I got home from work tonight, not self pity, but more regret that a family holiday came and went, and I didn't spend it with your brothers.

So imagine how wonderful every word you poured out was, as it took me back to those irreplaceable times. But I disagree with your last paragraph, where you say you can only hope your children will remember you, and the way you made holidays come alive for them. You always have, Barb, you always have, and if that's not enough to convince you, let's ask all the homemakers who follow "A Chelsea Morning" if you're doing enough. Even if ours was only chicken and cornbread dressing most of the time, if you add enough love, it becomes a very big holiday bird.

Because of your love, this is the best Thanksgiving I've ever had.

Mom.