The holiday is just moments away, and I haven't cleaned house or made pies or thawed a turkey. I won't be doing the cooking. In all my years I've only hosted the day's get-together once that I can remember. And it was epic. There was premature labor involved.
Instead, this year I'll be traveling north to my parents' house as usual, where my family and I will pass the potatoes and the green bean hotdish and get our fart jokes in a row. (I have brothers. It's what we do.)
Last year's drive to Mom and Dad's was full of memories. I can recall the rows of corn still standing out in the fields and the deer navigating between them, the November world smelling of sleep and snow, and my head full of the recollections of childhood.
Thanksgiving begins the Nostalgia Season for me. I consider the years that have passed and the years I have left. This year will be no different.
I'll look around the table at my brothers and their loved ones. I'll think of my Girlz busy with celebrations of their own, and the children that they're making fond memories for. I'll see my aged parents together and happy. And my heart will hurt with gratefulness for all that I have and all that surrounds me. Still surrounds me. And I'll say a silent prayer for more years together. Please.
Then just before my heart shatters completely, someone at the table will make the first fart reference and we'll be off in shrieks of laughter so loud that my nephew will cover his ears.
Fart jokes to the rescue. I'm thankful for them, too. :)
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