Thursday, November 26, 2020

Thanksgiving Memories

Some new, some repeated, all part of what used to be.

Dinner in Cleveland Heights at Nannie's house:

Sitting in the dining room, using it, for once, as more than an inconvenient space between the kitchen and the tv room, sideboards groaning, waiting for Nannie's yearly screech,  just as the first fork was lifted: "Oh, shit... I burned the rolls!"

Most Embarrassing Thanksgiving Day Moment:

 "What time are you getting your mom?"

"Oh, shit, I forgot about G'ma!"

Warming the cockles of my heart (and making me glad I recorded it in The Burrow)
I, math challenged, asked G'ma how many ounces were in a cup. 

And my mother, my dear, demented, forgetful mother, without missing a beat, told me that there were 8 ounces in a cup.  

And she was surprised that I didn't remember that fact... and that she did. 

Bittersweet Memory
Daddooooo died the Saturday before Thanksgiving; the entire family gathered around his dining room table every night, for dinner and revelry.  Without his cantankerous self stirring the pot, we all got along quite well.

His absence left a hole as it brought with it a measure of calm. We weren't expending energy worrying about him. We were turning that energy into telling and correcting and disputing the details of our lives.  

It was quite a gift he gave us that year.


Taking the after dinner stroll around TBG's childhood neighborhood, wrapped in scarves and hats culled from the front hall closet, surrounded by all ages and temperaments, mellowed by tryptophan.

Easy hiking atop Ring Mountain, meeting friends and greeting strangers, everyone agreeing that yes, we were living in paradise.   

For this year and every year:
Thanks for being part of the wonder that is my life.  Each and every one of you makes it that much sweeter.  

1 comment:

  1. Good memories. Thanks for sharing them.
    Happy Thanksgiving.


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