Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving’s never been my holiday.  Oh sure, I like the food and the parade on TV and having a week off to celebrate is amazing, but it’s not my fave.  As an adult, it reminds me that I don’t have strong traditions in my life.  And without my parents, I barely have any.  So here I am, 49 years old, having my second Thanksgiving dinner ever at my own home with my small, non-traditional nuclear family.

I CAN cook, much to probably a lot of surprise to a lot of people.  I grew up with Rose after all, even if it was by more osmosis, I did learn a few things by watching her do it five million times.  Like I made deviled eggs this morning.  I didn’t need to get down a recipe book, or look it up on my smartie pants phone.  I actually knew exactly how to do it, even if I have never done it before.  I have never made stuffing before either, but I can read the directions on the bag.  I did go to college.  I threw it in the crockpot, because that seemed like a fun way to make it.  I think it tastes kind of mushy, but Shayne keeps taking tastes, so at least he likes it.  If no else eats it, it won’t go to waste.  James handled the turkey.  This is probably best.  Raw meat.  Salmonella.  I don’t want to poison anyone.  I’m NOT that good of a cook.

My mom has never been more on my mind.  I can’t believe she did this shit all by herself for like sixty years of her life.   I put on her bathrobe this morning when I went out to the kitchen to see if the turkey was thawed enough.  (It wasn’t).  Then since I was up, I went ahead and fixed appetizers and salad and cut up the sweet potatoes.  I had three hotflashes, so I sat on the deck with a drink of water and opted for shorts and my Johnny Cash t-shirt.  I thought about turning on the Thanksgiving Day parade.  But I can’t figure out the damn TV in the living room.  When Shayne got up, he gave me a look he reserves for lost puppies and homeless cats.  Apparently our cable in the living room isn’t working because the amount of wireless devices we have aren’t supported by our outdated wireless device.  Or something like that.  This translates in that I should get my ass to a Black Friday sale and pick up a new Roku or at least call the cable company.  Darian hasn’t poked one foot out of her door.  She says Thanksgiving is a day to celebrate our national pasttime of genocide.  She is also a vegetarian, so she could give a rip about the turkey.  James and I went out of her way to make sure there is food for her–hummus, green beans, salad, two kinds of potatoes.  If I was a betting kind of person, I’d lay down odds that she barely touches anything.  Well, at least we’ll have left overs.  Unless Shayne eats everything during a midnight snack.  I hope Mom is watching me cook this meal.  If she is, she is probably simultaneously rolling her eyes and being proud.  Or maybe laughing her ass off.

I remember seventeen years ago, I brought Darian home from the hospital on Thanksgiving Day.  Mom outdid herself even though she was just cooking for Dad and Shayne and me.  We sat at the oak table, instead of at the counter and we took turns holding the baby as we ate our meal.  I can’t help wonder where Darian will be next year.    She is going to college so far away.  This might be her last Thanksgiving at home for awhile.  Mom used to get all fatalistic at holidays and say things like, “I might not be here for the next one.”  And I’d get irritated and tell her not to talk that way.  But today, as I contemplate making mashed potatoes the way she used to make them, I kind of get why she would say stuff like that.  You just really never know what the world has in store from day to day.

Here’s to building new traditions, making new memories, and celebrating all the moments that have brought me to this point.  I am thankful each day for all my friends and family who have me joined me on this crazy journey of life.  Peace.