Thanksgiving Memories
It’s Thanksgiving.
Our family gathers at Grandmother’s house. Grandmother has been busy for weeks planning and preparing for our Thanksgiving lunch.
We walk in to a house filled with the smells of the holiday. There is turkey and dressing with giblet gravy, cranberry sauce, macaroni and cheese, green beans, fresh black-eyed peas, turnips, cornbread and rolls dripping in butter. There are so many desserts, more than could be eaten by twice as many folks.
A beautiful crocheted table runner, that Grandmother had lovingly made for holiday table settings, runs down the center of the table. She is excited to use it every year. Her beautiful white china with the tiny silver edge is placed at each chair, along with my great-great aunt’s sterling silver utensils, each one polished by hand just for today's meal. The porcelain turkey figurine salt and pepper shakers keep watch from the corner of the table.
A beautiful fall centerpiece sits on the buffet which is loaded with bowls, plates and serving dishes of all kinds, each one filled with scrumptious food.
The cuckoo clock, that Daddy had gotten for Grandmother in Germany, hangs on a dining room wall. The pendulum swings back and forth, counting down the minutes until our noontime meal.
Everyone gathers around the dining table, heads bowed and our food about to be blessed. At that moment, the cuckoo clock struck noon. The little red bird, at the top of the clock, popped out of the doors of his little house. With a speed I can’t even begin to describe, that poor little fellow said “cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo-cuckoo” so fast I couldn’t even begin to count. Then he popped back in to his house as fast as he appeared.
Everyone slightly raises their heads from being prepared for prayer and peeks at each other as if to say, “What in the heck was that?”
When all eyes fall on Grandmother, she put her hand to her mouth and giggled, ”That clock was running slow, so I took it down and poured some oil in it.”
That poor clock hasn’t run right to this day.
Wonderful memories of Thanksgiving past. From the mind of me.
