We're coming up on Thanksgiving and I'm pretty sure you know I'm ecstatic. Not only because it's a holiday, but because it's a holiday that brings good food. Lots of good food.
But similar events trigger memories and I can't help but think about last year's festivities. I spent Thanksgiving day with BF and his family; the plan was to drive to my family's beach house in Delaware the next day. Of course I still called my family on Thanksgiving, but didn't get an answer, so I left a message. Hours later my mom returned my call, leaving a voicemail as well. I thought it was strange, but chalked it up to her being upset that I wasn't spending the holiday with my family.
After an eventful drive up (that's a story for another day), BF and I pulled up to the house, said Happy Thanksgiving to my Dad who was outside doing yard work and rushed into the house screaming "Happy Thanksgiving." We were met by an empty, silent house. I ran upstairs expecting to find my Mom in her room, but again was met by emptiness. I came out of the room and bumped into my brother who was sporting a very strained smile. I asked him where Mom was and he said she wasn't feeling well and had stayed in Maryland. Of course, I jumped on the phone with my Mom and discovered she was in so much pain, she couldn't move. I told her I was driving back down to Maryland to take care of her, but she said she didn't want that. She wanted the family together for Thanksgiving and she knew if she told us before we arrived, we wouldn't have gone. Ever the matriarch.
That weekend, my Dad showed he can be quite the host. Not only did he do his regular yard work, he also warmed up most of the food and insisted on cleaning up after dinner so my brother and sister-in-law could have some time to catch up with BF and me. We even had time to decorate the house for Christmas.