Traditions
I am thankful for the now. For today. For the yesterday and the last year and the way back when. I am thankful for the ever changing traditions and the memories they forge.
I am thankful for the anxiety that radiated off of my mother as she stood in front of the oven before guests arrived.
I am thankful for the endless cleaning and organizing and the “take the things on the stairs up to your room!”
I am thankful for big slices of pumpkin pie with ice cream, while sitting on a safe comforting lap. I am thankful for discovering there is nothing better than pecan pie.
I am thankful for the dimmer switch in the dining room of my childhood, providing the opportunity to bicker over who got to light the candles.
I am thankful for the deep bruises and the scraped skin that came with inserting the extra leaves into the deep dark oak of the antique dining room table.
I am thankful for the breadbasket that kept the rolls warm and the gravy boat filled with delicious thick goop.
I am thankful for the bench that I shared with my sister when we would inevitably run out of chairs. I am thankful for the head of the table, hostesses and honest reflection.
I am thankful for the individual servings of Thanksgiving dinner that we ate out of Styrofoam boxes next to the beds of my ailing grandparents.
I am thankful for the melancholy and the tears.
I am thankful for the new additions that were slowly invited to Thanksgiving and then to Christmas.
I am thankful for all the celebrations that were spent with friends so close they’re like family.
I am thankful for the bowl of spicy pumpkin seeds and cracked corn that was so good you couldn’t stop eating them but they would make your mouth so hot that you would have to drink big glasses of water.
I am thankful for the post meal hikes and the leaves and the mud and the puffy vests and the corduroy pants. I am thankful for the faux sympathy and betrayal that would come from those who presumed to know us.
I am thankful for my first date and the darkness and ladder 49.
I am thankful for canned corn, rotisserie chicken and mashed potatoes in France. I am thankful for microwaves. I am thankful for the story of Squanto. And for totem poles of the northwest coast and the adorable ignorance of those who think that all native americans are the same. I am thankful for laughter and facepaint. I am thankful for friendship and love and wine.
I am thankful for free pumpkin pie and holiday cheer.
I am thankful for love and family and stomachaches and foodbabies and naps and blankets and bad photos.
I am thankful for those in Rennes who helped me celebrate when I was all alone.
I am thankful for my mother who has held my hand at every Thanksgiving dinner, but two, sharing thanks.
I am thankful for my sister who all but once has shared my bench and more than matched me for every scoop of mashed potatoes.
I am thankful to have had 22 years of pie and love and turkey and family.
I am thankful for all the future traditions that will not be kept and the memories that will preserve them and the wine that will create them and turkey and cranberries and pie that will remind me what day it is and all that I have to be thankful for.
