Well, there went Thanksgiving.
Started prepping the house weeks ago. Today, it’s a wreck. Dirty dishes on countertops, aluminum cans not quite in the recycle bin, two chairs pulled up to the computer. Empty coke cans strewn across my desktop along with printouts, pens and pads of paper filled with hard-to-read scribbles. A stray sheet which found its way to the floor.
Dishwasher was continuously cranking out clean bowls, beaters, measuring cups, spatulas, spoons, saucepans and sifters which gave rise to new culinary creations──our Thanksgiving fare of turkey, stuffing, gravy, cranberries, mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes with marshmallows, pumpkin pie with whipped cream and piles upon piles of the family’s favorite cookies.
Thanksgiving revisited football, the Marx Brothers, Mr. Bean, A League of Their Own, Princess Bride and Willow. It saw phone calls to sisters, brothers, sons, cousins and grandparents from the Big Apple to San Francisco, friends from Arkansas to Florida. Shopping excursions to all corners of the city. South Side, North Hills, downtown and Sewickley Village. Desperate workouts at the Y. Anything to process the overload of holiday calories.
A quick trip to the airport and it’s over.
Returning home to my dogs, in a large pile against the front door. Waiting to greet, waiting to wag, waiting to see who would come.
With a warm yearning and the sweet, savory satisfaction of knowing that this small, precious treasure of a family is well loved. From the inside out. Where it really counts.