thanksgivings.
Last Thanksgiving David’s parents were here in Columbia. We drank lots of coffee and cooked together in our Benton Street kitchen. I asked Linda to make the pie crust because there are few things that intimidate me like homemade pie crust. The house had very little furniture still, so we spent our evenings crowded onto the futon, pulling around chairs from the dining room. David and I consciously pushed aside the mountain of uncertainties and worries about our future in order to enjoy our family and watch football games on his laptop and take blustery November walks.
The Thanksgiving before that we were in South Asia, celebrating in our King Street flat with our friends John and Alison. Alison and I cooked together all morning — our feast was the result of many shopping trips to many parts of the city in order to locate ingredients (whipping cream being an especially elusive item I believe). We made homemade pumpkin spiced lattes (very homemade, since canned pumpkin was not to be found) and after dinner we all took the four kids up to run around and play cricket on our rooftop terrace.
And the year before that we woke up in Richey and Keli’s guest room to a white-hot sunny Thanksgiving morning, our second day ever in South Asia. Our eyes were gritty and our bodies in shock from jet lag and lack of sleep. We opened our balcony door to a seventh-floor view of our city, studded with palm trees and construction sites and colors so bright that my eyes hurt.
We spent Thanksgiving Day with brand new friends in South Asia, who cooked a full American spread. The best part of that meal was learning at the end of it that our turkey had been obtained at a local pet store. It felt good to laugh. Our minds were bewildered but our bellies were full and our hearts happy watching our kids connect with their new buddies.
These were our last three Thanksgivings.
And now it’s today.
This Thanksgiving is cold and quiet and very, very uneventful. I’m sitting in my living room with a cup of tea while David reads a book and the kids color. Andrew Peterson is playing on iTunes, the sun is shining for the first time in days, and our family is at peace. There are no life-changing moves to make or decisions to await or questions to answer. There is no mountain of worry to cast aside. There’s just this wide, bright day to enjoy.
In an hour I’ll saute a panful of green beans and mushrooms and then we’ll drive twenty minutes to Blythewood. We’ll spend our Thanksgiving in the woods at my parents’ house, with a crowd of family and delicious food and happy little voices and crunchy leaves outside.
I’m thankful for our Thanksgivings and thankful for these three:
