The Day Before Thanksgiving

I have been thinking about writing about Thanksgiving for a week or so.  I was planning to write about our various holidays and how they were celebrated- or not.

Then today, while making the bed, I thought about my mother.  She taught me how to make a bed properly.  How high to put the top sheet.  How to fold in the bottom of the top sheet.  Little nuances that most people wouldn't even know.  But I do.  And I notice.  And for whatever reason, I care. 

Then, just now I was cutting up celery and onions for the stuffing for tomorrow's turkey.  My mom showed me how to cut the celery so it came out diced and didn't require a lot of chopping.  She told me to never put celery in the garbage disposal because the celery string would clog it.  Same for onion skins.

I suspect some of the things I do are just genetically programmed into me from my mother's genes.  Like folding laundry.  And putting it away.    Folding fitted sheets.   Dusting the furniture before vacuuming (actually I think she told me that one).

Then other memories crop up.  We knew that if we saw two sticks of butter sitting out to soften, chocolate chip cookies were going to be baked soon.  And we knew that if we looked in the Dutch oven, taking the lid off, the cookies would be there.

She did try.  She was often running up against a brick wall.  She would get  frustrated and scream.  Unfortunately, I inherited that from her too.

I miss my mom.  And I miss others who are gone and will never share a Thanksgiving dinner with us again.

I have a lot to be thankful for.   To be able to miss someone, it means that you did have them in your life and you loved them.

My mom around age 15.  She said that the chickens all liked her- they were all looking at her!

The last Thanksgiving we had with Grandma & Grandpa Sherwood

The Thanksgiving after Grandpa Sherwood died. 
We cooked the dinner at home and took it to Grandma Sherwood's for a family dinner