I am really out of sorts today. I missed posting yesterday (first time this month) due to some chaos that erupted here at home moments after I sat down to write, and I’ve just been kind of “off” all day. The girls went (unwillingly) to bed nearly an hour and a half ago, and they are still rocking and rolling in their room, which aggravates me even more! Tomorrow makes a solid month since my Jeep went to the mechanic, and there is no end in sight. Aarrgh!
My mental picture of Thanksgiving Day includes a rather Rockwellian family seated gracefully around the overflowing dinner table, with scrumptious food presented on beautiful china, presided over by the elegant, composed matriarch. In truth, we are a rather motley crew, my good china is still in storage, and I will be much more harried than composed by the time the bird is on the serving platter (and no, I don’t carve it at the table — butchery should remain private).
But the essence of Thanksgiving will be there. Mom’s legacy will live on in her stuffing and freshly-made cranberry sauce. If the chocolate gods are cooperative, I will make my mother-in-law’s wonderful fudge. And if I am especially blessed, all the food will be ready at the same time, and so will the diners. Both my children, their significant others, and my granddaughters will be at the table, along with my husband-who-lives-across-town in his role as benevolent granddad. My own daddy and brother will drop by for a short visit, too. Because several feasters are non-Christians, we will begin our meal by sharing what we are thankful for instead of saying grace, and those words of thanksgiving will become grace in their own way.
Re-reading what I just wrote, I realize that the noises from the girls’ room have stopped and they are finally asleep. My grumpiness has abated as I realize that, by this time tomorrow night, my precious son will be here. My grocery shopping will be done, fudge made, kitchen cleaned, grandchildren asleep.
I am a thankful woman.