Well, in a way.
Thanksgiving at my house is mostly a very quiet affair. Usually Tom has to work 12 whole hours and his company provides a special dinner for whoever gets stuck working the holiday, so he nibbles at that all day and has pretty much had a Thanksgiving meal before he even drives home. And Naomi usually goes early to her boyfriend's home for a Thanksgiving meal, so both she and Carl have eaten by the time they arrive here in the evening, too.
So what does Debra go ahead and spend all those hours doing anyway? Yes, she cooks. A huge Thanksgiving meal.
Of course, I don't have to. I could just whip up a tiny something which we could all share in the evening. But then there'd be no leftovers(!) And everyone except for me would have had a nice Thanksgiving dinner.
And besides, during all those hours at home alone, I would, truthfully, miss all that cooking and my messy kitchen and the spicy, baking scents and watching Miracle on 34th Street and other Christmas movies on the little tv on top of the refrigerator while I'm baking and chopping and standing at the stove.
And this is what I would miss, too --thinking of all you kindred spirits who I've been so blessed to meet online while I'm there in my kitchen on Thanksgiving Day. I'd miss making pumpkin pies while feeling grateful that I did not go through my life feeling that I was the only person on Earth who still loved old-fashioned things best. I'd have missed the friendship you've given me here and via emails, also, and through your Christmas cards, Valentines and notes by way of my mailbox below our porch steps.
So in a way, while my fingers are dusty with flour and the turkey is roasting in the oven, I'll be seated at your table, also. For you will all--new friends and old--be very much on my mind and in my prayers and on all my lists of gratitude.
So thank-you. Truly.
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