Last year’s plate o’ plenty.
The interwebs are blowing up with Thanksgiving discussions, from tweets about people brining their turkeys, to small businesses reminding you they will be closed on Thursday and Friday (including yours truly—no Friday column from me!), to announcements about pop-up turducken sandwich stands. I’ve been happily following it all, and looking forward to spending time with my parents, sister, and grandma this Thursday, on my favorite holiday of the year. And oh yes, there will be giblet gravy.
But it’s amazing how quickly none of this stuff matters when you’re unexpectedly sitting with your parents in the waiting room at the ER on a Monday night, with your sister admitted for severe abdominal pain. Fearful about a ruptured appendix, and peritonitis. Fortunately sis was released late last night, appendix intact, and will just have to be taking it easy over the next week, with a few more tests and doctor appointments on the horizon. (Exhale.)
But last night really put things into VERY CLEAR PERSPECTIVE. (Which seems to be happening again and again this year.) We are so fragile. And precious. And things can change very quickly in our lives. So this Thursday, as we sit around our tables with loved ones—both relatives and chosen ones—it really doesn’t matter if the turkey is dry, the pumpkin pie crust got slightly burnt, or the stuffing is underseasoned. What matters is those people you are sitting around the table with—and those you wish could be there, but can’t.
Here’s wishing you a very happy Thanksgiving. Truly.