Entry Thirty-five: Thanks.

[I'm taking a break from the other stories to bring you this holiday-themed chestnut in seven parts. Today: 1 of 7]

I felt someone nudge my foot under the table and knew Uncle Stan was signaling the time had arrived. As I scanned the faces of the guests at our Thanksgiving dinner, I imagined most of them forgot it was coming, which was easy to do since it occurred only one time each year. There were a few neophytes scattered throughout the guest list, blissfully ignorant of what was next on the holiday agenda and I worried about them. We were about to embark on a potentially painful activity but it helped to be surrounded by friends and family and not have to go it alone. Knowing others would struggle didn’t make me less anxious, just less lonely.

“I want to thank you all for joining us for our Thanksgiving meal.” Father had determined everyone was sufficiently in place and he wanted to begin the repast, so he stood and brought forth his traditional greeting. “It is always so wonderful to have friends and family here with us and, I must say, everything looks absolutely delicious. Thank you to everyone who participated in bringing food and especially thank you to my wife for all of her hard work in the kitchen and in preparing the lovely decorated home in which we are all sitting.” He motioned toward my mother with one arm, extending his hand in casual recognition. He smiled at her, she returned it and gave a small nod. It was corny but they were able to pull it off with a minimal induction of nausea.

All words and images ©2005/J. Colle

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