Our family changed plans a few days ago and decided to have Thanksgiving at our house. Hurrah! Menus have been made, shopping is done, and the pies are in the fridge, just waiting for their moment.
We'll start the day at home, alone the two of us, watching Macy's parade (I've never, ever missed a single year of it as long as I can remember), we'll eat canned cinnamon rolls, and Cub Sweetheart will talk to me about every single balloon and float, bless his heart. Because it's my love language, watching the parade with me. And pretending to care.
Then we'll be lazy much of the rest of the day, me working on Christmas gifts while he watches whatever football is on. Then around 5 pm they'll all come pouring in the front door, bringing pies and corn casserole and their sweet faces to gather around our table for a few hours of loud, crazy fun. We've got a turkey and a ham, and all the sides and such, lots of pies for afterwards, but all I really care about is the mashed potatoes. It would be Thanksgiving for me with just that one dish. I don't care too much about the food, but....
but I had to have our little blue book, the one that everyone hated when they were growing up, but I still pulled it out every single year. Everyone, everyone had to write in it what they were thankful for. All these years later we have a lot of fun reading the entries, especially the one Cub Sweetheart made the very first year, that was completely inappropriate. It had gotten misplaced in the move last year, and I was despairing of ever finding it again.
But I did. This afternoon. It was tucked behind another sweet Susan Branch book, displayed in the dining room.
And inside the very front page - this:
This year this sweet mama will be helping cook their own Thanksgiving dinner, complete with a 32 pound turkey. I do believe she's recruited her big sister to help with that chore, but it sure was fun sending her a snapshot of this today. To remind her of a day gone by when she didn't have to do a thing, except be a kid, and come to the table when she was called. And eat. Her text to me made it quite clear that seems a lifetime ago. Oh, how fast we got from there to here. It flew by.
So tomorrow, no matter how much they groan, make all those gathered around your table at least say, but better yet, write down what they're thankful for. Many of the things on their list won't be things, and won't be around forever.
Okay, back to cooking!