Turkey, turkey

I'll tell you about our Thanksgiving because it's pretty important to realize that it's not the turkey that makes the holiday great. It's the people clustered around the stove with forks.

To put it mildly, we've had better turkeys. Much better. This one was filled with surprise things (a plastic hanger thing wedged inside, a spare pop-up timer inside the cavity, and a huge bag of ooky bits).

Plus the oven either turned itself off or some pan nudged the OFF button on the control panel, and the turkey sat in a cold oven for an hour.

But I noticed that--It should smell like Thanksgiving, and right now it just smells like Thursday--and got things back on track--late, but back on track.

My daughter had to go to work (wrong! wrong! wrong!) so we actually stood right in the kitchen and ate a wonderful dinner.

As I was carving the rest of the turkey after she left, I noticed a piece of paper coming out of the turkey's rear end. *You may supply your own joke here* Yes, there was another bag of ooky bits tucked in there. I took it out, and the turkey just....deflated. Flat, flat, flat.

It's all good, as my daughter is fond of saying. And it is. It is ALL good. We had a nice dinner, made some fun memories, and the kids and I spent a lot of time saying, "I am thankful for you," because that's what matters.

It's not the turkey (luckily!). It's those moments of intense love--and not just knowing that there's love, but saying it.

I used to have a poster in my room that said something like: Not only to love, but to be told that I am loved. The realm of silence is large enough beyond the grave.

I don't have that poster up any more, but I don't need it. The words are etched into my heart, and I so sadly know that they're true.

Thanksgiving may have come and gone, and the turkeys have deflated flatter than a used Macy's parade balloon, but don't wait until next November to turn to someone you love and say, "I am thankful for you."