It’s been a long time since I last wrote my blog.
Longer than I expected.
Longer than I expected.
The last post was in August, and somehow the months slipped by. This year of 2025 was full, in a steady, physical, everyday way.
Teaching Sashiko workshops two to four times a month.
Continuing to attend Qigong class in Virginia Park from last year, started physical therapy at U. C. LA Hospital in the spring, and Aqua Yoga from September at Santa Monica College Emeritus.
Eight years after being diagnosed with stage IV cancer, the cancer is not coming back, so I’m gradually working on building up my physical strength.
And having a good time stitching Sashiko or hand sewing projects or painting every day, wherever I had time.
Writing had to wait.
And now the new year is only ten days away.
There are many things I want to write about, and Thanksgiving feels like the right place to begin again.
For the last twenty years, we’ve spent Thanksgiving in North Fork, California. It’s a small mountain town in the Sierra Nevada, about thirty miles from the south entrance of Yosemite National Park. Quiet. Grounded. A place where time feels slow and is not rushed like living in the city.
I first came to North Fork 20 years ago for a ten-day Vipassana meditation retreat. Eric came to pick me up after I completed the meditation course. Somehow, the place stayed with us. North Fork became our sanctuary—a place we return to when we need to reset. Every visit feels like an exhale.
Even our cats love there.
For Thanksgiving, we usually leave Santa Monica early on Thanksgiving morning. Traffic is lighter, the air feels calmer, and the drive becomes part of the experience. A few times, we left the night before, and it took a long time because of holiday traffic, and we arrived so exhausted. We realized the morning of Thanksgiving works better.
We passed through Tejon Ranch this year, and the road disappeared into thick white fog. For a moment, it looked like smoke, and then it became something else entirely. Driving into that silence felt unreal—like crossing a threshold, or entering another world. Maybe heaven’s gate looks like that.
Most years, it’s just the two of us. Sometimes we invite friends to share the quiet, tranquil, and Eric’s cooking. This year, our frineds who we’ve known for about twenty years finally came to visit—with their dog. When we first met them, learned they loved the mountains, so we said, “Someday, come visit us in North Fork.”
Life got busy. It took time.
But that someday came.
At the Thanksgiving table, surrounded by food, our dogs and their dog, and familiar voices, I felt grateful for the power of wishing. Even when it takes years, a wish doesn’t disappear. It comes true.
Eric cooked every day throughout the weekend—Thanksgiving dishes and everything in between. Our friends don’t follow a macrobiotic or plant-based lifestyle, but they enjoyed the food, which made the meals feel even warmer.
There wasn’t much snow yet at China Peak this year, so snowboarding and skiing were set aside. Instead, we filled the days in other ways.
Hiking around Bass Lake and Manzanita Lake with the dogs.
Driving up to the panoramic views at Redinger Lake.
Picking persimmons at Keith and Merry Gale’s house.
Visiting Cascadell Falls and pick wild rosehips.
Thanksgiving at a mountain cabin in North Fork.
Wonderful memories of a long-awaited wish fulfilled with long-time friends, quiet moments, much gratitude, and finally, a group photo.
On the way home, we stopped in Clovis to pick Yuzu from Nakano family, already thinking about Yuzu Kosho to be made.
I’m deeply grateful for another Thanksgiving—with my good health, family, and dear friends.
Love,
Sanae ❤️