Let's Talk



The feast is the good part. We're not talking about the good part. we are going talk about the part where we decide to host the damn thing last second. We're talking about the part where have to get up early the day of and run to the store. They're not selling whole birds by themselves now, the time for that was long past. We get their Thanksgiving Package--a bird, some rolls, a thing of potatoes and gravy. Really it gives us time, but mom hates the idea of having so much prepackaged.

We're going to talk about the part where relatives arrive way too early. Aunt Kat and Uncle James were supposed to be early, to help, but now everyone's getting in the way. The Facebook page said dinner at 5, people. Cousin Imps running through the kitchen from the yard, through the living room. Tripping over and almost tripping, we nearly lose a stack of good plates. The old men on the couches only sway like wheat being blown in the fields in order to keep the TV in view as the children run in front of them. They watch the game intently. You could keep score if you knew what the various cheers, groans, and boos translated to. Hollering the house down meant the team they wanted to win won. Silence meant they lost. The score was currently 35 to 21 and I haven't left the kitchen.

This all before the meal is set on the table and everyone is seated. Let's talk about the better part still, where they all leave. The ones living the farthest having to drive through the night in order to get back in time for some sleep. Poor souls work on Black Friday.