It’s Thanksgiving! The day we eat turkey and gravy and stuffing and pie until we pass out; the day we move all the the furniture in my parents’ house a bit to the left; the day my mother spends running up and down the back lane simultaneously cooking two turkeys in two ovens — one in her house and one in her neighbour’s house, six doors up.
Actually, this year the game of Move The Tables From The Verandah To The Garden And Back Again Thrice As The Weather Changes was knocked on the head, with the decision taken early to just have the damn meal inside and not try to use the courtyard at all. It’s going to be cool and rainy tonight, so all the living room furniture has been moved into the garage and we will dine in dryness and warmth. Hurrah! But it’s a bit sad that all the guests won’t need to sneak, one by one, into Mum and Dad’s room to raid Dad’s jumper shelf , another traditional aspect of our Thanksgiving.
Food and back injuries aside, for me one of the best parts of Thanksgiving has always been seeing all the beautiful silverware come out to grace the tables. I particularly like the tiny silver salt bowls lined with blue glass that have their own tiny spoons. I’ll be heading over to Thanksgiving Central in a few minutes to polish said silver, which is about all the help I can offer this year.
Yesterday the brush turkey who lives in the back lane made the colossal mistake of wandering into their backyard. Bad timing, man. I’m pretty sure he caught sight of the two ten-kilo turkeys that were lying, freshly dead and ready to roast, on the kitchen table. It must have been very traumatic for the poor brush turkey. Today he’ll be giving thanks that it wasn’t him lying there.
I’m thankful this year, once again, for all the standard things: the health and happiness of my dear family and friends, our good fortune and our stick-togetherness in the face of bad fortune. I’m thankful that my baby is growing happily and hugely, so thankful in fact that I graciously forgive it for taking up so much space that I may only be able to eat two helpings tonight. I’m thankful for H and May Blossom, and for their tolerance of me at this point in my pregnancy, which I think we can all agree is not my finest hour, to put it delicately.
If you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope yours is wonderful. If you don’t, you won’t have spoiled your appetite for Christmas dinner. Everyone wins.
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