Past years, my sister Peg and I would be just about to pop a turkey in the oven. We’d be making side dishes-her with all her measuring cups and spoons, me guess-timating with every plop of ingredients. We’d be laughing. I am thankful for all the time we had to make those memories.
Years before that, a distant and foggy picture in my brain-of waking to the sound of kitchen clatter, my Mom preparing for the festivities of the day- in the yellow kitchen of Glenview Pkwy. In my head, I can still see-all of us loading ourselves into the family car, on each other’s laps, the car floor, in the hatch and heading off to church with Dad. I can smell the scent of the wall heater in our dining room—cranked up to warm the room before we ate. I can hear the whisper in my ear from Mom “Don’t take any food until the guests have theirs.” There were always guests. So I am thankful for the picture, still in my head though a bit shady, and the chance to make those memories.
This year, two kids of my own, and heading to my sister’s for the holiday. As I look at them in the back seat, I realize the weight of creating memories for them. I think about my parents and sister, now in Heaven, and know back when they were making memories-they were doing so while mourning a lost loved one too—but they smiled, laughed, burned the stuffing, and carried on- because they felt the weight of making memories for me. I am thankful that they did it so successfully, and I am thankful I get the opportunity to do the same for my own.
I am thankful for my husband and children. For my brothers and sisters-my first and forever friends- and my parents who gave them to me. I am thankful for my parents and sister by marriage. I am thankful for cousins, aunts, uncles, and in laws. I am thankful for friends, for my work, for where I live and my neighbors.
I am thankful.