With A Grateful Heart

"Thanksgiving Day is coming!”
Oh, Mr. Turkey said.
“How very careful I must be,
Or I will lose my head!”
The Pumpkin heard the turkey.
“How frightening too, Oh My!
They’ll mix me up with sugar and spice.
And I’ll be a pumpkin pie!”

While tragic to large fowls and squash, this song has always been one of the highlights of my Thanksgiving. As far back as I can remember, my mother sang this song every year. Funny thing, a child’s reality; the things you remember so vividly now seem to have taken place in a dream or an old television show. It’s as if my memories are stored in black and white. Only the present takes place in living color. I remember running around the yard with all of my cousins; too many to fit in the house let alone sit around one table. At dinner time, the adults sat in the kitchen. We were served on paper plates and ate outside resting our food and drinks on the hood of the car. As it got late, we plotted how one of us could go home with the other family and spend the night; keep the party going as long as possible. We weren’t concerned about cooking or dirty dishes or gluten or divorce. I remember my dad getting mad when we picked at the skin of the bird, and when I teased him for not being able to reach the pot in the back of the high cupboard. One year, my mom forgot to get punch, so she made a packet of Jell-O and told us to drink it quick. Mijo always made something new; poached pears one year that no one ate; rice pudding another I heard it tasted good (from him, of course) no one else remembers tasting it. Every year he complains we’re eating too early or too late or too fast or too slow. (Do you get my point, here?) One year, my dad put brandy in the yams and ruined them. (I’m still holding that grudge.) The year after he died it wasn’t the same but we went on, some of us cooking, mijo complaining, all of us singing the song.

Things are different now and the idea of picking one day to remember and give thanks seems absurd. Now, I’m in charge of the turkey. I’m avoiding the dishes. I’m concerned about the gluten and coping with the other things. In terms of stopping and being thankful, Thanksgiving is a useless holiday to me; rather redundant actually. I don’t need it. You see, I truly thank my God every day. I look at how He has blessed me with my family, my church, my friends, my home, my job (I can seriously keep going). I know how blessed I am. I don’t need to stop and think. I know who I am, where I’m from, where I deserve to be and where He has placed me and I am very thankful. I’ll take the day anyway because it gives me some time with the people I love dearly. This year we have a new baby and her daddy joining us for the first time. We’ll sing them the song. Maybe, we’ll go outside and eat on the hood of the car. Yes, things are different now.