I finally sent off the overdue first draft of my next fabric collection at midnight on Tuesday, and so was able to turn my thoughts to Thanksgiving yesterday. I started off with the usual tasks – menu plan and grocery list and timeline – and then started to think a little more about, you know, giving thanks, and why we celebrate the holiday the way we do. This year we are only four at the table (we had planned to host another family, but then, Covid…), and Dave floated the idea that maybe we could take it easy. Why jump through all the hoops of a big Thanksgiving meal when it’s just the four of us? That was met with outrage from my daughter, and I realized that I really didn’t want that either, tired as I was. All the cooking, and bustle, and the unnecessary dishes and even more unnecessary pies (this year we’re at a 1:1 ratio, plus one for a friend) are part of the process of taking stock, recognizing and celebrating all the bounty that we have been given.
I’ve found it hard to count my blessings without looking at the state of the world, and right now, if I’m honest, it’s really hard to do. These days I keep flinching and squinting, skimming over headlines and trying not to let the reality of it sink in. It is just so painful, and I feel incredibly helpless. But then I know that that is the flip side of gratitude, and part of my work this holiday, is recognizing it, sitting with it and not looking away.
I usually think of Thanksgiving as a celebration of the harvest, and I think of all the steps of meal preparation as little love notes to the plants, the turkey, my garden, the universe. I revel in all the fall harvest colors and smells, and send up praises. The night before Thanksgiving has become family pie night, where we all work together on our pie production, and I found myself feeling deeply grateful for it this year. We had jazz on, and my mom and daughter peeled apples while I made crusts and Dave mixed up his signature buttermilk pie, and I just felt… love. At one point Anabelle was on the floor laughing so hard at something Dave said, and I was reminded again that those hoops we jump through are like gentle speed bumps, put there to make us stop our mundane tasks and pay attention to the beauty and bounty around us.
