My sister had offered to pick us up and drive us to her house, but I’ve been feeling well enough that I said we’d take the train, which we did, without any trouble at all. We arrive on time, she met us at the station and drove us to the house. There were pies (two pumpkin, one apple, one chocolate pecan) sitting on the table. The turkey was on the counter ready to be cooked. My brother-in-law was at the stove, working on the potatoes (or maybe the sweet potatoes: I’ve lost track).
We had brought smoked salmon (for days following) and some protein drinks for me, and I found room for them in the fridge. The house is strangely empty this year, as all three (grown!) kids are officially living elsewhere. The two oldest made it home for the feast; the youngest just moved to Arizona a couple of weeks ago, so she’s not around.
We ate. I had plenty of cheese and crackers and a couple of meatballs– and that was lunch. Dinner, of course, was the traditional turkey with dressing, the aforementioned potatoes and sweet potatoes, cranberry relish and probably other stuff that I don’t recall. I even had room later for a small piece of pumpkin pie with a little vanilla ice cream. I haven’t eaten this much in a couple of months, and it was wonderful.
Even better, of course, was being with my family. My parents called just before dinner, and spoke to everyone. Much love was exchanged. I was, and remain, profoundly grateful– for the love of my family and friends, for my current health, and for all of the happiness I’ve enjoyed over the years, especially with my wonderful sweetie and husband of over thirty-eight years. Thank you all.
