pre-school musical
(hannah and caroline and me)
((part five))


nothing like a little high school musical and high school musical 2 to brighten up what had turned into a somewhat drab thanksgiving weekend. there are things that i look forward to. and then there are things that i look forward to. one of the things in life that now falls into the latter category is thanksgiving dinner. i've mentioned in the blog at least a couple times how much i appreciate being matrimonially tied to a family that takes their thanksgiving seriously. i am not talking about just the food, but the food plays an important role. maybe, in some ways, the food does the talking for the family. the food and the good-byes.

first comes the food. marie travels to georgia the night before the big day because preparing the feast takes a goodly amount of time. and what a feast it is. dressing. turkey. dressing. ham. dressing. sweet potatoes with marshmallows on top. dressing. coca-cola salad. and dressing. the horrible, drab-steering turn to the feast yesterday was that i had the pleasure of tasting all of it twice, and i don't mean because i went back for seconds. for whatever reason, my stomach picked yesterday, of all days, to revolt. before i even finished my first plate-full of heaven could i tell something was off inside me. many trips to the bathroom later began the longest two hours of my life, the car ride home. for two hours i hung on for dear life or the next gas station, whichever came first, as we (seemingly) slowly made our way back to birmingham. as gross as it sounds and as it is, i have never been so happy to throw up in my own home as i was when i got home last night. but i digress. back to the food. when the family shows up together at sarah's aunt's house, things and conversations pick up as if it hasn't been several months since the entire group was communed in one place. catching up is part of the tradition, sure, but it is a means to a greater end. the meal. the prayer happens and then we eat. more conversation happens around the food, but the central focus is the food. it's a distraction of sorts, but a good one. a healthy one. you see, over the course of however many months it's been since the family has all been together, everyone's had their issues. their drama. their life-changing events. some good. some bad. some issues have been with those that were gathered together yesterday around the food. but for a short time, the food comes to the rescue. the food takes the pressure off of who may have upset who else and helps us remember that most of our issues are borderline petty at best. they (we) still love each other when push comes to shove, right? the food reminds us of this. the feast, itself, and it's lengthy preparation makes for a great metaphor. families that live apart, in separate cities, away from each other are "cooking" all year. the pot at the end of the rainbow is the food. the feast. the time to be around each other again. to know everything that pisses us off and makes us unhappy may still be in the back of our mind, but the food makes it ok for a while.

the food and the good-bye's. i wish i could have told either of my grandfathers good-bye. i didn't have that chance. and i can read it on sarah's face every time we leave georgia that she wants to make sure her good-bye with her (very healthy still) grandfather is a good one. one that she won't regret if the fates would have it that it is her last. but not just with grandfathers do good-bye's count. for the first time since i met him, i had not seen joseph in months. i wanted to make sure that he knew that i missed him, and i am sure i did a very poor job of that indeed. i wish that i could tell joan or marie how lucky i feel to be in their family's company, but the cold and the nausea prevented that notion from being an attainable one. i wanted to tell jimmy that his tv rocked. tell rebecca anything other than hello and goodbye. tell christina one more time that caroline (and her parents) said thank you for being so kind and comfortable. tell sarah's granddad that his family is leaving him a legacy that he should be very proud of. most good-byes, those that have any depth to them, always leave a lot to be desired. it's hard to get out "my world wouldn't be the same without you" even though that may be the way we feel.

watching hannah choreograph routines to her own musical tonight made me thankful for the things that so often go unsaid but always are there. right there on the surface. right there that if we could ever find the courage to say them out loud, the reciprocation factor alone could make a person's year, much less day.

until we find that courage, we'll settle for the food. and let the food do the talking for us. the food and the fact that we are there. together. for one day.

happy thanksgiving.