Hmmmm. |
My dad’s stuffing. I capital L-ove my dad’s stuffing. And I love to eat the skin off the Turkey. The crispy skin that has a little bit of saltiness to it. And a little bit of juiciness. The turkey, I can take or leave. I love my mom’s cranberry sauce… it’s got orange zest and a few other fancified ingredients. And my mother-in-law’s sweet potatoes are delish. As is my sister-in-law’s green bean casserole.
Ohhh. The food of the Holidays. The food isn’t really about the food… ya know? {Unless you’re 5. Then, apparently, it’s about the pukin’ pie}.
It’s about the year that my dad called us all vultures as we stood around the bird, waiting to claim the crispy skin. And about the fact that the stuffing has been a staple every year of my life. And the cranberry sauce that Jonah devoured on his first Thanksgiving. And the dinner table conversation that occurs over plates covered in gravy. It’s the fact that as I enjoyed those delicious sweet potatoes last year, I learned that my mother-in-law grew up with white sweet potatoes in Kentucky. And as I tasted them, I determined they are actually even tastier than the orange variety. And the green bean casserole. Something I never grew up with, has become a must and my sister-in-law makes it best… with two cans of crunchy onions. And then… the mounds of leftovers made artfully into sandwich monstrosities. The sandwiches that I will always remember eating as football-watching food on Husker Fridays following the big event. So the food is sort of just a conduit to the rest of the stuff. The excuse to get together. To commune with family and friends. To take a day to rest.
The food. The meal. The gathering together. For me, it’s become so much about the memories. The memories that are in the past. And the new ones we’re making. As our families grow. And grow. And grow. The idea that even in this busy. busy. busy. world. if you’re lucky, you get to be with at least one person who you love… and who loves you in return… to celebrate. It may not happen on the true Thanksgiving day. But it makes us take pause. And share in the simple things that bring us joy.
A warm meal. Good company. And memorable conversations.
And sometimes, I think that these years might be our most memorable yet. And that makes my heart fuller than full.
And that. Well. That is worth being thankful for.