I just recently hosted my first Thanksgiving at my house. My Mother and I had talked about having a special separate Thanksgiving this year since we haven't really spent Thanksgivings together since I was young. I was excited and a bit anxious at the same time.
My Mother and I picked out the date and planned the menu together. I started feeling the excitement of the holiday already. It was fun for me right from the first moment of planning. Through text messages, emails and phone calls, we communicated while in the grocery store, when new ideas and thoughts crossed our minds and just to check in. I felt the bond with my Mother growing stronger. Through new technology and old traditions, I felt like we bridged across generations and time.
My Mother came over early that morning of our special Thanksgiving Day. The boys were already showered and dressed in fall colors of orange and brown and looked very handsome with their new haircuts. I, however, had not even showered yet, but it didn't matter. The excitement was in the air. My hair was pulled back and sleeves were rolled up. I was ready to rumble with that turkey, or so I thought.
My Mom and I chatted for a bit about life and current events in our lives. The boys were excited to have Nana at our house. She played with them for a little while, while I cleaned up the kitchen; picking up crumbs, old mail and other every day items from the week.
Mom kept saying "We need to get this turkey set." I knew I was ready. We we finally settled on the time that we would be ready to eat and we put a list together. My organized Mother put times, ingredients and other essential details next to each item on the list. We had a plan. We worked on different tasks throughout the morning like making the string bean casserole, creamed onions, butternut squash soup and peeling sweet potatoes. We had good talks, laughed a lot, we listened to old Christmas music she used to play when I was a little girl, we played with the boys, read books and had lunch.
It was now nap time for the boys and almost turkey time. We got the boys down to sleep and my Mom looked at me with a big grin. "You ready?" She asked. "I think so." I said nervously. We referred to the list and knew we only had a short time to get the turkey in the oven by our scheduled time of 2:00pm.
She had me do everything at the beginning and kept telling me. "This is your turkey today. You're going to do it." I took a deep breath and started cutting into the plastic netting and wrapping around the turkey. We cleaned the sink and plopped the bird in. I felt myself starting to loose the oomph that I once had before I realized I really had to stick my hand inside this BIRD. I had to separate myself from the fact that this soon-to-be main meal was once a living thing with parts and pieces that I would recognize more easily if it were alive. I started having conversations with myself about how bizarre this tradition really was. And who were the people that had the jobs of providing all of these birds to the stores in this fashion? I finally calmed myself down by reminding myself that Norman Rockwell's family did it and it's all part of the holiday season. I suddenly heard the Lion King Soundtrack in my head "It's the Ciiiiirrrrrcle of Liiiiiiiife....." I was jolted out of this private discussion inside my head by my Mother saying "You're supposed to be doing this...C'mon, shove that stuffing inside the cavity." "Awwww, Mom!" I shouted. "Do you have to use words like that? Cavity?" We laughed and she took over the dirty work, acknowledging that she did not realize how squeamish I was.
We got all the stuffing in and she rubbed the turkey with the remainder of stuffing on her hands. "This will help it to get golden brown at the end." She said. She had me do the honors of putting the turkey in. We closed the door to the oven and looked at the clock; exactly 2:00pm.
We finished up the other side dishes and I had to run to the grocery store to get more butter and rolls. While I was gone, Charlie woke up from his nap and played with my Mother; working on puzzles, reading more books, they enjoyed each other. I returned home and soon Kyle woke up and he helped out with the puzzles too. And then there it was...as all of this hustle and bustle went on, I didn't even remember that eventually there would be rewards. The glorious aroma of turkey permeated through my house. It really hit me when Charlie asked me what that smell was. "It smells so good in here, Mommy." My heart melted and I knew a tradition had been formed.
The boys were jumping around in delight, the final preparations were in full force and one by one the other members of the family came in from work. That holiday feeling was felt by all with cheers as each person came in and wine was poured. "What can I do to help?" was shouted in excitement by a few different voices. We couldn't decide who was best to slice the turkey and whether I had a big enough platter to put it on. Before we knew it, the Thanksgiving dinner was spread out in buffet style across my counter and everyone was picking out their favorites and loading up their dishes.
I looked around the room at my family members as a few different conversations went on simultaneously. The magic unfolded around me at every turn. Kyle and Charlie were so elated to have everyone over and even though they barely ate anything on their plate, they made up their own new Thanksgiving traditions like dunking their bread in cranberry sauce and playing Candyland with their Grandfather. Somewhere within all the table conversations, all the mmmms and aaahhhs about the food, I saw it. I looked across the table at my Mother and caught her eye. I saw a twinkle in her eye and words just poured out of my mouth "Happy Thanksgiving, Mom. Today was fun." I said. She looked at me with a big smile and said "This was wonderful. I am so happy. Happy Thanksgiving." And there it was, the twinkle. In my own Mother's eye, I saw that twinkle. I knew right then what it was all about. Every twinkle is a memory made, a moment remembered and special traditions created and dreamed up actually come to life.
I woke up the next morning having a mini panic attack. I realized I had not taken any pictures. I am the picture maniac in my family. I love to document my life with words but also with pictures and video. I felt sick to my stomach with this realization that there was no photo documentation of this glorious day I had with my Mother, the golden brown turkey that I made with her for my first Thanksgiving, no moments captured. So I as someone very close to me said, I was meant to write about this day and I must have been so engrossed in the awesome-ness of the day that I did not even think to take pictures. And even though a part of me believes this to be just fluff, I have these memories so close to my heart that another part of me will always remember how special it was, especially when I see that twinkle in my Mother's eye or when I look in the mirror, I will know why.
