A Monday Memory....

Growing up, it was just the five of us - Mom, Dad, my sister, brother and I - who sat at the table in our dining room and celebrated Thanksgiving.  All of my grandparents had passed away by the time my parents had married.  So we didn't travel "over the river and through the woods." But our small gathering was no less special than anyone else's.  

After watching the Thanksgiving Day Parade on tv, we would put on our Sunday best before sitting down to eat in the afternoon.  My mother set the table with her best china and silver, and cooked a huge meal with all the traditional dishes.  Her sausage stuffing and apple pie were the best I've ever tasted.  

When we were older, our Aunt joined us at the table after traveling out from the city.  At the end our meal, she and my Dad would enjoy reminiscing about years gone by in New York City, while my sister and I helped with the clearing up. The only Thanksgiving spent away from home was when my parents, sister and I flew out to St. Louis to spend the holiday with my brother who was at college in the midwest.  Though the restaurant we went to was quite nice, the holiday just didn't seem the same.

Years went by and eventually marriages and grandchildren increased our numbers.  We didn't know it then, but Thanksgiving 1982 was to be the last holiday we would spend with my Dad.  So the following year, my Mom said it would mean a great deal to her if we could always come to her house for Thanksgiving. I know she was very grateful that we were all able to do that for her for many, many years.

As our numbers grew, so too did the number of vegetables my mother would prepare.  If someone mentioned in passing a particular like, it was added to her list without question.  Hours spent peeling, and juggling pots between the stove and counter, were required to pull it off.  Putting on that big spread certainly became a major undertaking!

This year will be the first time that the Englishman and I will not be hosting our own little family in our house, as we did for the previous few years.  We will be dining at our middle daughter's house, though the Englishman will still be doing the bulk of the cooking. I will be baking an apple pie, using my mother's recipe. I've no doubt it will be a wonderful time for us all.

I just spoke on the phone with my mother's neighbor, who still lives across the street from my childhood home.  She said that when she gets down and misses my Mom and the years they spent together supporting each other as widows, that she thinks back and just remembers all the good times they shared together.  I must admit, I do the same.

It's the being together that matters, not the place.  

And, the remembering. 

Those precious memories -

of all the people we have loved 

and the many good times we've had together.