Thanksgiving 2004

Thanksgiving began with the traditional trip to the movie theater. This year, we saw The Incredibles. For me, the second viewing was better than the first. The family gave it a collective thumbs up, including my mom, who claimed to like it despite falling asleep during part of it.

Mom, being mom, stayed up late the night before to clean the house in preparation for her holiday guests. This year was a big deal. It wasn't the small, quiet gathering of prior years. There would be ten people, including grandparents from both sides and neighbors from down the street.

Extra leaves for the dining table were dug from the closet. Table settings, unused for many years, found themselves arranged according to a diagram from a Miss Manners etiquette book. Fluffy, the family dog, found himself receiving more attention and treats in a matter of hours than he had received in his entire life.

Dad barbecued a delicious twenty-pound turkey. I don't know if my mom actually ate any while we were there. She and my grandmother were always up and serving people, as though resistant to the thought of relaxing to enjoy the meal.

Two days later, after leftovers were packed and turkey sandwiches were made, after table leaves and settings were put away, after Fluffy went for some extremely long walks, after all of the tireless running around, I spoke with my mom.

"This was one of the happiest Thanksgivings I've had in a long time," she told me.

I gave her a questioning look, wondering how anybody could say that after all of the stress and hard work.

She continued, "It reminded me of when I was younger and your great-grandmother was alive. She would have Thanksgiving in her tiny house and it would be full of people and talking and laughter. It was nice to have that again."

I have a vague recollection of Thanksgiving at my great-grandmother's house. I was too young to remember it in detail. It's more of a feeling these days, one of warmth, one of happiness.

This Thanksgiving gave me that same feeling. It was like reliving the past, just for a second, but this time knowing what was going on, knowing why it felt so special and hoping for many more like it in the years to come.

I know, so much for cheese-free thankfulness.