Thanksgiving Reflection

The house is quiet. Darkness. I wander around the house in stocking feet, listening to the snoring sounds of my sleeping house.

Sprawled out on couches and makeshift beds, my guests rest after a long day of feasting and revelry. Relatives and old friends traversed distance to celebrate this day of giving thanks.

Walking out into the frigid Night air, I gather wood for the fire. Once indoors, I add a few small pieces of kindling to bring up a flame and then stack a neat pile of Sweetgum upon the glowering embers. Flames creep over the edges of the wood and lick at the smoke rising up the chimney. I am thoroughly engaged in my task, yet my thoughts soon turn towards recollections of Thanksgiving days past…

I remember the last Thanksgiving spent in Oklahoma, of the company of good friends and fierce conversation spilling well into the late hours of eve. How we so enjoyed the company of each other, as well as the sumptuous feast the ladies prepared. I especially remember my former Pastor`s dessert specialty and Sasha`s German potato salad. It seems so long ago…

I remember the annual Thanksgiving Day “Turkey Bowl” football games held at my hometown football stadium, featuring a “murderers` row” of has-beens and never-weres from the surrounding communities. Somehow it always seemed to rain or snow, and every series of games eventually devolved into good-natured savagery. Ah, good times…

I remember the Thanksgiving my then-girlfriend and I celebrated in Dallas while I was at school. Young adults out on our own and each far away from home. How we started with a delicious meal at a local restaurant, eventually ventured into Deep Ellum for the better part of the evening, and spent the rest of our time sequestered away in my apartment…

I remember the Thanksgiving my Nan and Pop showed up on our doorstep completely out-of-the-blue. I was but a wee boy. They drove all the way to Texas from Pennsylvania to surprise us, bringing with them a twenty-five pound turkey. `Tis a memory especially bittersweet with them both now passed on to Glory.

O, how I remember these Thanksgiving days and many more, as thoughts churn and turn inward within themselves.

Time disappears `neath the hazy mists of deep recollection, and I hear the voices and laughter echoing in the distant corridors of my mind.

I feel the joys and delights of those days, they wash over me like the Tides.

As the hour grows into the wee small hours of Night, and Dawn sends creeping tendrils of golden light upon the Sea-swept horizon, my mother awakens and creeps downstairs… to find her firstborn son staring into a smoldering fireplace.

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