From Sarah :
We want a Norman Rockwell Thanksgiving.
I had them for 40 plus years.
Until Bobby died.
Then my Thanksgivings changed.
Yet, I am still very Thankful.
I have my memories.
I have a good life.
Here’s to Thanksgiving. To the food. To our families. To our friends.
Drastically Altered Holidays
She so wanted it to be a Norman Rockwell holiday. Soft music playing in the background as the loving family gathered around the well-appointed table, lavishly laden with all manner of delectables. The china and silver and crystal sparkling in the candlelight, the well-used name tags fashioned out of index cards by little fingers so many years ago reminding them of every holiday that they’d spent together.
Mama’s piping hot broccoli cheese casserole … Aunt Tillie’s delicious sausage stuffing … tart yet sweet cranberry-orange relish made with Papa … Sister’s fragrant yeast rolls.
And then Grandpa would bring out the huge browned bird, carving it like a pro with everyone oohing and ahhing. Each hand would reach for the next in a chain of grace as the patriarch led in prayer for the food. They would eat, drink, and be merry. Stuff themselves senseless. And bask in the glow of it all.
Fast forward a season … or a few.