Time changes things. For practically every Thanksgiving in my adult life, I’ve traveled home to Mississippi for Thanksgiving. This year, with our growing family, I felt it was time to stay home. I missed being with my family of origin but loved being with my daughters and their significant others (one husband, one fiancé, and one boyfriend).
This Thanksgiving became cooking by committee. At one point I looked around my kitchen, and there were only guys cooking. Each couple contributed something to the meal. But also, these grown children worked together in every way. Such a fun thing to watch and be a part of. As the meal was almost ready to be served, I cried out, “Salad!” There is always something we’ve forgotten. Usually it’s cranberry sauce or bread, but this year it was the salad. As I scrambled to get the salad ready, others stopped and chopped. Our small community came together to make everything just right.
Friday, the committee started up again with the traditional turkey and sausage gumbo. I know nothin’ ’bout cookin’ a gumbo, being a Mississippi girl and all. But there is something so comforting about the scent of a dark roux.
As this holiday comes to a close, I celebrate change. I celebrate a growing family. I celebrate the new generation.