Thanksgiving Day was a couple of days ago. Superwoman worked her magic and we had fifteen family members over for a scrumptious feast. As most all southern American families do, everyone brought a dish or two to share. We had too much to eat and all slumped into chairs after the banquet and talked of things trivial and important.
Every year I stand in awe of the genius that marketed jello as a salad.
There were two highlights to the day for me.
1. I can no longer manage the task of carving the turkey and this year decided to teach my 21 year old son how to do the honors. He was intimidated as I was the first time I was confronted with a twenty-one pound turkey armed only with a carving knife and a Betty Crocker cookbook.
He had the advantage of my tutelage. It was probably harder on me than him as I pointed out the places to begin the cuts and joints that needed to be popped. I would give an instruction and then pretend to be busy elsewhere so he didn't have the old master looking over his shoulder. I could not have been prouder when we finished. The gauntlet has been passed....Long Live the (new) King.
2. The second highlight lasted 37 minutes 53 seconds. I had booted up my home PC with the hope that maybe, just maybe, I could reach my son, Tim, in Iraq. Sure enough, just minutes after all the guest had arrived, we got a text from his wife that his (very iffy but expensive) internet was working. I rushed to the office and seconds later from the middle of the Iraqi desert came the voice and smiling face of our soldier.
Everyone had a chance to speak with him and ask him if the Army fed them turkey and whether it was hot in the desert and other nervous talk. One by one they left our office until it was just the two of us. Me growing frail and unsure and, the little boy I had raised, looking healthy and confident. We had a couple of minutes of "man to man" and I told him I loved him and to be safe and we ended the call.
It truly was a Happy Thanksgiving in so many ways.