Dim night.

Candlelight.

Table set for two.

I stare down at the shiny plate at my expression, blue.

My weak smile hides my weary eyes.

My calm demeanor masks the tumult in my brain.

My steady heartbeats drown out the ache--

Alas, I awake.

It was all a dream.

I sigh.

In reality, work will be on my Thanksgiving plate.

Followed by dinner with them...

...and a side of inevitable thoughts of you.

Balancing

my family with

my boyfriend with

their expectations with

my happiness next to

a slice of turkey and

two carrots and

a potato and

home

There’s one day a year, families come in to enjoy their company & an over filled plate.

We have turkey & Stuffing made with sage, fake smiles & secret competition to see whose family’s more great.

Mashed potatoes & gravy, rather buttering bread, they butter each other up to have someone on their side for political debates.

I love the rutabaga, it’s my favorite & I enjoy every bite while I watch it be avoided like I avoid The cousins with uncunning traits.

They love green bean casserole, it’s full of cheese, ritz, add in jealousy over stories of the pretend lives they create.

Some try the spaghetti squash, it’s savory & sweet, not like the brother-in-law who uses people to pump up an ego that he needs to inflate.

I can’t forget the corn, that’s a staple food, salted & peppered with a dash of the aunts in the kitchen whispering about their daily complaints.

My husband & I adore the pumpkin pie, two slices apiece that we take to the kids table, the adults & we just don’t relate.

My family gathers. Generations of moms and daughters bustle in the kitchen, sharing recipes, cackling about the latest family drama.

Men and children sit by the fire. The game is on. Children play and dream of the mound of mashed potatoes soon to be theirs!

Not all family members are here. Some are too far away. Some have passed on. We laugh and guffaw at the happy memories with a sprinkling of sadness and loss. Always thankful for the memories we have.

Time to eat. Everyone rushes to the table, cackling moms bringing out the last of the dishes. The man of the house drills through the roasted beast. Tasty familiar accompaniments are shoveled on to plates. It's a symphony of clink and clank as the polished silverware forks the good China.

My plate is empty. No glutenous sustenance for me. No. There are only memories on my plate. One empty plate in front of one empty chair. Frequent glances to my plate by my beloved family sparking more stories, more laughs, more grief. They think of me. They remember me. They are sad, but thankful for the memories.

potato filling.

it was my grandfather's recipe.

all the ingredients of turkey stuffing;

celery, bread crumbs, onion,

mixed with mashed potatoes.

this is

our first thanksgiving without him

and my mother is making

potato filling.

and i know

she's thinking about him again.

Carrots and parsnips are shining in butter

Great gorgeous hams, oh if I'd have my druthers!

Wonderful tenderloins tied up with string

These are a few of my favorite things...

When the cold bites!

When the knees ache!

When I'm feeling sad...

I simply remember the season is nigh

And then I don't feel so bad!

Taters and stuffing on trivets of fancy

Wonderful sauces are catered by Nancy

Great golden goblets are sparkling with cheer

Please my good man would you pour me a beer!

When the wind blows!

When my stocks crash!

When I'm feeling mad...

I simply remember the season is nigh

And then I don't feel so bad!

Velvety gravies that make my mouth water

Show me that turkey, I'll tear it asunder

I see a pumpkin pie topped with whipped cream

Oh, mother pinch me this must be a dream!

When the brakes fail!

When the babes wail!

When I lose my hat!

I simply remember the season is nigh

And then I don't feel so bad!

Alongside the passing dishes, the casserole, the pie

My plate holds missing memories, of stress, of grief, of sighs

Perfect porcelain china that we see just once a year

Pretty decorations that hide both pride and tears

My plate holds conversations of loosened family ties, of people that we once held dear, and now have to leave behind

I balance my politeness like the food groups on my plate

Carbs heavy like the questions as they ask about my latest failing date

But on top of everything I add a little grace

because even despite it all, my plate is giving thanks

I will forever be thankful for the turkey,

nestled beside macaroni and cheese and yams.

The kitchen too, smelling of sweet and salty food,

high in flavor but low in nutrients.

The feeling when a big sliver spoon plops fresh dinner rolls on my plate,

Ready to gobble it all down,

just to continue this cycle and stuff myself with seconds all over again.

Through the kitchen archway comes the sound of laughter and plates being set upon the table,

The smell of ham and gravy spilling throughout the house as the dogs play on the carpet,

Setting the cry of hunger and love upon my stomach and heart,

The light glows through the windows,

Out into the world,

And we give thanks for the world around us in a way that is both ours and others,

The ham,

The cranberry sauce,

The mashed potatoes and gravy,

The Corn,

And the people around the table,

This is us,

This is who we want to be,

This is family,

And this is the thanks we give.