As usual, my sister and BIL hosted an incredible Thanksgiving. It was our first without our mother. We'd planned to all come to my house the day after for a wiener roast in the Garden of Many Groovy Things, an ongoing project I've been working on for many years.
My daughter and her family and I came back earlier than the rest of the group to prepare. We did a bit of prep and we managed to get my hubs to urgent care. He'd fallen and broken his ankle. I was excited about people coming to my house, about my babies being there, and I was anxious about my husband's injury. And to say I dropped the ball about the meal would be an understatement.
I didn't think about getting the buns out of the freezer or putting food in bowls, etc. I didn't think about it. Here I was with 11 people at my house, some of the most important people in my life, and I was supposed to be feeding them, but it wasn't in my head.
But get this, no body starved. I didn't really get a chance to feel panicky. My family just did what needed to be done and we had such a fun time. Never were there tastier hotdogs than these cooked on forks held over a fire, expertly tended by Brother Paul. Jan brought outrageously good baked beans. We all forgot the potato chips, but Nan brought yummy slaw. We somehow remembered the recipe for S'mores. We told the same jokes we've been telling for years and teased and loved on each other. The wine flowed and the beer was cold. The weather was absolutely perfect and the faerie lights on the rose arbor came on exactly at dusk. As the evening cooled, we scooted closer to the fire and to each other.
Tim pronounced one of my lanterns dead before the gang gathered and another pooped out during the evening, but there were tiki torches and so many candles. Bell fell asleep on her mom's lap, but Bump got to blow out the last of the candles as we put out the fire at the end of the night.
It was simply perfect. This family is so goofy and so accepting that I think they don't care much that I have some holes in my brain. In fact, they may not even notice. I reckon I've always been a bit clumsy and absent minded. To have siblings who can laugh at their own and each others imperfections is amazing. We can do that because we all "own" each other.
Is that maturity? Gathered around a campfire, laughing about belches and farts, we surely don't sound mature! Maybe it has something to do with us being orphans now. There are just the four of us, but there are ALL FOUR of us, and to me we feel like a unit more now than ever. We're all aware that we aren't spring chickens so every moment we can celebrate together is precious. Whew! It's a good thing we're all still so good-looking!
I love, love, love my brothers and my sister. I love my extended family who could be with us and those who couldn't. And I know that if one of us drops a ball, another of us will pick it up without even thinking about it. Nobody has anything to prove, we're just too busy loving.
No comments:
Post a Comment