Giving Thanks

When I woke up this Thanksgiving morning, as usual, I made my way to my coffeemaker. I try to remember to prepare the pot the night before and have coffee waiting when my alarm goes off.

I poured Half & Half in my cup and started to fill it up. Instead of coffee, I was pouring water. Apparently, I forgot to put water in the pot—again. I opened the top to pour in the water and saw a soggy filter. The problem seemed to be that after I had re-filled the canister with coffee the night before, I forgot to measure the coffee to put in the filter.

 

Not wanting to pour hot water in the coffeemaker, I decided to pour it out. Then the light bulb went off, and I remembered a packet of Folgers that was used like a teabag. Anyway, I used some of the hot water to make a stop-gap cup of coffee while the real-deal was brewing.

 

Regardless of the coffee snafu, I was grateful that I wasn’t out of coffee. That would have really been a bad start to the day.

 

In true American fashion, I refused to let that sour a day of thankfulness for me. I get it honest, because when I called my mom this morning to wish her a happy Thanksgiving she said, “I woke up this morning, so I’m thankful for that.”

 

I was a little worried about her because yesterday morning she said she had no plans for Thanksgiving. Harold said I should invite her to eat shrimp with us. “Well, she isn’t too crazy about seafood, and I know she will have invitations a lot closer than us.”

 

She went on to say, “I’m ready for Tommy to come and get me at noon for Thanksgiving Dinner. Then, at four, someone will pick me up to go to Terri’s.” Sounds to me like my mom is going to be well fed today.

 

Thanksgiving was always one of my favorite holidays. My dad wanted all of us kids to be home for Thanksgiving. When you have a big family, half were going to in-laws for Thanksgiving and the other half for Christmas. Dad finally said they would take Thank
sgiving and the in-laws could have us for Christmas. Of course, like Mom, we always wound up having two Thanksgiving dinners. My mother-in-law always cooked enough food to feed an army.

 

After Dad died, we carried on the tradition for many more years, but eventually we opted for a family reunion, and later, we mostly got together on Mom’s birthday. Traditions change as our lives change.

 

When Jim was in the nursing home, I had holiday meals with him. His mom would fix up a plate of his favorites and I took it to him. I was thankful to spend that time with him. When his appetite waned, he still had a taste for his mom’s home cooking.

 

I’ve crossed many speed bumps during my lifetime, but I’m thankful to be blessed with family. We aren’t gathering in one spot today, but our hearts reach across the miles to connect us inside a circle of love. I am thankful every day for my family, not just today.

 

Millions of Americans choose Thanksgiving Day to count their blessings. I think a better choice would be if we had 364 days to count our blessings and one day to wallow in self-pity.

 

Copyright © November 2021 by L.S. Fisher

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