Thanksgiving came and golden sunlight filled the air. Florida didn’t offer bright orange leaves or the first snow of the season. But we did have palm trees rustling in the cool breeze, windows cracked enough to let fresh air waft through the house, and the smell of pumpkin pie mingling with freshly clipped rosemary from the garden. Becca tied on her favorite apron before sunrise. For the first time in years… She wasn’t stressed about everything being perfect. Hung up on what her table lacked. She cooked because she loved the people who would fill it. Laughed with. Cry with. Tell stories with. There was hope. A very big difference. The Morning Rush By eight o’clock the kitchen was buzzing. Turkey in oven. Homemade rolls beneath a clean dish towel. Sweet potato casserole on the co

