Several times a week, Matt and I assumed a ballroom dance posture. Rather than on top, my arm was repositioned to undergird his right elbow, lifting it up and out. I had taken ten weeks of ballroom dance at an Arthur Murray studio, fresh out of college, and I used my basic knowledge to help refresh his memory on the Waltz, Foxtrot, and occasionally the Cha-Cha. As we danced, I verbalized the step count and direction out loud.

Megan, for her part, taught him the Swing. Matt took tentative baby steps due to his poor balance and motor planning abilities. He was unstable enough that PT-Mom always stood nearby, ready if the situation went awry. Later, with hands on his hips from behind, I'd mirror and facilitate the correct step sequence. Our dance efforts weren't beautiful or perfect: at times, we stalled, stumbled, got tangled up, or stepped on each other's feet. But we had fun because this was Matt's journey, and we loved him so much. We were overjoyed when Matt took the lead as Thanksgiving approached.

Upbeat moments were easily overshadowed by the unrelenting needs and recurring storm clouds of doubt that compressed and deflated us. The prospect of a visitor, however, was a welcome reprieve—as if Mary Poppins, with her umbrella held high and her knowing smirk, was about to touch down and bring levity to the Watkins’ household, redirecting our narrowed vision from Matt outward.

When Matt learned that his Ph.D. advisor, Dave, was coming to visit in two weeks, he was super excited. Mike and I used this visit to encourage Matt to work on speaking louder and in a deeper voice rather than in a high or falsetto voice. As his voice wobbled between pitches, some of his attempts gave us a hearty laugh, another sign of a reemerging good sense of humor.

Mentor and student, colleagues and friends, sat shoulder to shoulder at our dining room table. They talked, with Dave updating Matt on Cornell events, programs, and random points of interest on his computer. Over a light lunch, we reminisced about the old days, graduation, and shared research interests. Before leaving, Dave retrieved a thank-you note Matt had sent back in 2010 as he was preparing to graduate. In it, Matt had expressed his gratitude for the years of advice and collaboration he received on his PhD thesis and conference presentations. Dave had faithfully provided counseling and moral support through mundane and challenging situations, and more notably, had become a steadfast friend. To Dave, this heartfelt and impactful message still resonates, making it worthy of being preserved for years to come. As he departed, Dave reiterated that he had championed Matt’s cause once and would do so again.

Thanksgiving celebrations and socialization with extended family made the day feel both festive and wonderfully familiar as we recounted God’s blessings and Matt’s progress. Matt listened intently, comprehending only bits and pieces of what was being said. Wanting Matt to feel part of the conversation, individuals directed simple questions and patiently waited for him to formulate a few-word response. We felt like we had hit the jackpot.

As was her annual custom, Megan planned a craft project. She typically made something special for everyone—napkin rings with pilgrims and our faces superimposed, felt drink coasters, or wine glasses adorned with painted fall leaves. This year, however, she surprised us by laying out muslin fabric for a tablecloth, which would become a canvas for our collective artistic endeavors. With bright colors—Matt, just like the rest of us—painted our fingers and hands, and like eager Kindergarteners (well, maybe not Uncle Vinnie), we imprinted the body of our turkeys in an oval shape around the middle. We further enhanced our creations by adding faces, feathers, wattles, feet, and our names underneath. The finishing touch was the quote Megan had written in advance in big letters at each end, declaring, "Grateful Hearts Gather Here."

© 2025, Sarah Watkins