November 26th, 2006
|08:56 am - Thanksgiving Day: The Finale|
Nick and I hung out for awhile as I showed him the little toys I'd picked up at our late Great-Uncle Jack's house the day before. There was half of a small, lead bar that our Great Grandfather used to make toy soldiers with. There were two small metal mice on wheels that we used to send shooting across Great Grandma's kitchen. There was an old harmonica, some antique keys, and a small New Testament that had been, according to the inscription, given to my Grandmother on her 12th birthday. Oh, and of course, Great Grandpa's mineral collection: from quartz with gold to chrysocolla, little mineral samples were painstaking labeled with numbers and their name. We reminisced a bit, laughing about our times visiting Great Grandma and looking in the their "toy drawer" (a special drawer in Great Grandma's house that she kept filled with -- well, toys just for us) until, suddenly, we heard the doorbell.
We looked at each other. That had to be Mom -- she's about the only one we know that bothers to ring the bell. (Everyone else pretty much walks in and yells, "Anyone home?" or just sits down and turns on the TV. We're a fairly informal bunch.)
I went out and gave her a big hug. "How's my mom doing?" I asked, kissing her on the top of her head. (Mom's five-foot-two. I'm five-foot-seven. It works out.)
"Oh, I'm not feeling too well," she said, "but I did want to come be with the family."
"Well, I'm really glad you came," I told her. And I was: I really was. The first few years after their divorce, Mom couldn't bear to come over for Thanksgiving, and I don't blame her. After all, she had loved this house, and it was no longer hers. That had to be painful every time she walked in the door. When she began to be able to visit again, it was a relief for all of us. After all, what's Thanksgiving without Mom?
Various pleasantries were exchanged, and Mom gravitated towards her grandson. At some point, I ended up back in my office where I remained until I heard Mom calling that it was time to sit down.
This, now, this would be the true test. I swallowed hard, and tried to calm myself, as I walked out into the dining room. When I got there, however, I was shocked.
I looked at the table, and there was turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, dinner rolls, butter and jam. A bottle of sparkling apple cider sat waiting for our traditional toast. In point of fact, other than the fact that the turkey was not attached to a giant dead bird, we had everything, absolutely everything, that we usually had on Thanksgiving!
Even Mom seemed to be feeling a lot better as we all set to on the food. We bantered a bit, and laughed over previous Thanksgivings. Everyone loved the food. Everyone was ... pleasant! And joyful! And, dare I say it, happy!
Somehow, beyond all expectations, we had achieved How Thanksgiving Should Be. I felt about as surprised as the Grinch who stole Christmas when he finds all the Who's down in Whoville happily holding hands and celebrating without their presents. "They're not sad at all -- they're singing! They're singing!"
Even the cinnamon pumpkin pie went over well! In fact, despite Dad's and my worry that the whole "cinnamon" thing would blow the deal, everyone declared it was the best pumpkin pie they'd ever had!
It was ... amazing. It was happy and peaceful and no blood was shed! In short, it went the way our Thanksgivings usually go, only even better.
Later that evening, after Nick, Taylor, and Mom had gone home, Dad and I sat in the kitchen and breathed a sigh of relief.
"Dad. Dude." I said. "You pulled it off!" I gave him a high-five, as we grinned at each other.
"I wouldn't have given two cents for our chances yesterday," said Dad, shaking his head in wonderment.
"I know," I agreed. "Good thing they had dinner rolls, mashed potatoes, and pumpkin pie at Honey Baked Hams!"
"I can't believe that pumpkin pie," he mused. "'That was the best pumpkin pie ever!' Did you hear Nick say that?"
We sat there for a moment, just basking in the triumph of the day. After a bit, I turned to Dad.
"And you were worried," I said.
We looked at each other for a moment and broke up laughing. I'd say, despite incredible odds, this turned out to be one of the best Thanksgivings ever.
And .... curtain!
|Date:||November 26th, 2006 05:17 pm (UTC)|| |
Hahaha! I sent Dad the story in progress which didn't include the last two entries. He said, "You left out, 'and then something happened and everything worked out fine.'"
Seriously. What a relief! I'm amazed Rob hasn't come in here and posted some comment about "a very special episode" yet, though. Must be playing WoW.
|Date:||November 27th, 2006 03:26 am (UTC)|| |
Ive been running raids since I woke up.
A very special episode indeed.
And you got more than three entries out of this ;)
I know! You people must be hard core to follow it through to the end. :-)
Or bored. No school since 915am Wednesday. ;)
Or just riveted to your compelling writing of the events as they unfolded ;)
But still, that's awesome that you had a good day all together. Awesome.
Yeah! Riveted! That's the ticket!
|Date:||November 26th, 2006 08:04 pm (UTC)|| |
Aren't families fun? Even when they mostly agree on everything, settling on What To Do can be PITA...
Didja hear that Honeybaked recalled a bunch of their turkey and hams the day after Thanksgiving? Good timing :)
Oooh! No, I didn't hear that! Although that would have made the story even funnier. I'm picturing Dad and me driving around In Search of Turkey because of the recall. haha!
|Date:||November 27th, 2006 03:27 am (UTC)|| |
oh the irony if you would of had to go to the ER over a turkey.
A happy Thanksgiving ending! ::snif:: ::wipes tear::
My heart's cockles, they are warmed. :-)
Haha! You know, the funny thing is, when I started writing this, I had NO idea how it was going to end. I just figured the story itself was too funny not to write it up anyway. I'm still amazed that it went that well!
The lead-in was not promising. :-)
I am definitely coming to Reno to visit you once I move to LA.
I have to see all this for myself.