Grams had a habit. Whenever people were in her house, she'd put something to make with on the table — paper, scissors, an old shoebox of photographs — and let the talking find its own way.

Nobody was asked to be vulnerable. Nobody was told to share. But hands stayed busy, and the stories came anyway: the ones about hard years, the ones that made everybody laugh, the ones nobody had heard before.

Gratitude, Gathered is that table, boxed. It is not therapy and it makes no promises about outcomes. It is simply a good reason to sit down together and notice what matters.