Thanksgiving with my family seems like a version of the movie groundhog day. Every year is the comfortably the same with the exception of us each growing older every year. There is always some little ones running around; older ones bossing younger ones; the sure fire family fight (this year was between me & Nick over putting butter on corn); guys watching football; and us reminiscing about years gone by.
My Meme was famous for her Chocolate Pie and since she died over five years ago we have never really had anything like it grace the kitchen. Oh, the German chocolate cake was still a guarantee and there are always cookies and pies and more dessert than should be legal, but the chocolate pie was missing. I have scoured the nation and ordered chocolate pie after chocolate pie to no avail. No One makes pie like my Meme. My cousin Tracey read a poem at her funeral and the chocolate pie was mentioned several times. It is one of those traditions that we loved about our Meme. She was a grouchy lady for the most part and always had a smart remark but we would fight over the last piece of her chocolate pie. Well, surprise upon surprise, Peggy (who is not known for her cooking, not being rude, just being honest {she knows this}) got the recipe and tried her hand at it this year. It is crazy how a taste can be a memory but it is. I could not believe that we were having Meme's chocolate pie, but there it was the buttery crust in my mouth, the meringue mingling around it dancing with the taste of the gooey chocolate. I was 10 years old again bullying my cousins and running through the house in my sock feet. I was immediately seeing that face with the twinkling eyes and curly white hair standing over the stove in one of her 'jogging suits' ready to smack the hands getting in the ham before time to eat. Kudos to Peggy for those memories and for the two pounds I gained eating WONDERFUL chocolate pie.
As we savored the pie my cousins and aunts and I began to talk about how fast our kids are growing and how apparently, Lori and I are now middle aged. Ugh, I am refusing to be middle aged. I am going to live to be 100 so I will not be middle-aged until at least 50 so I have 14 more years. . . LOL ~ The table is always filled with laughter and some of the same stories year after year. Sometimes we remember things not talked about in years like how we thought the grownups were dumb when they hid the easter eggs in plain sight in Meme's yard and they laughed and said, well we wanted it to be easy so it would be over quick.
Somehow we ended up talking about our family faux paus. We, well some of us, laugh at funerals. We have had to separate ourselves at funerals to not laugh and two of my aunts had to leave a funeral once because they could not quit laughing. I remember one funeral when we were glared at and we tried to contain ourselves. Why do we do this? We have no clue, it's a nervous thing. So talk moved to what we were going to do when my mom passes away. We all have to sit on the front row and that will be pretty bad to be sitting in the front row of my mom's funeral laughing at some point. I say this because I know I will be crushed beyond belief because even after 36 years, I am a Mama's girl. She makes me mad, she makes me laugh, she makes me cry, but no one can compare to who she is to me. As we laughed about this tonight, mom said, "In front of everyone, I give you all permission to laugh at my funeral" which was funny in itself. I told her we would just make buttons or stickers to hand out at the door that say "we laugh at funerals" so no one will be surprised or offended. . . . seriously, though, laughter is the best medicine.
Over laughter Nichole and I made up over our butter incident. Over laughter, we discuss disciplining our children, meeting our life's goals and memories from childhood past. Today was about laughter and memories and thankfulness for those we hold near and dear and don't tell them nearly enough.
Feel free to share some of your Thanksgiving Memories.
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment