Our Thanksgiving was fairly small and quiet — as quiet as it can be when all the sisters and brothers (minus the one who is on yet another tour to Afghanistan) get together around the table. There was talk of health and religion, of course. Football — which teams, I have no clue — were on the TV (I tried switching the station to “Godfather,” but that was a no-go). There were the regular selfies with the nieces and nephew. And trips outside to the sneak neighborhood cats pieces of leftover turkey … shhh.
I left in a turkey coma and a to-go Tupperware of slices of apple and pumpkin pies.
And now, it’s time to share the five senses of Five Senses Monday:
Tasting: My mom’s homemade sourdough stuffing, served with a roasted turkey and my other favorite, lime green Jell-O salad. Thanksgiving-eve pizza with a new favorite red wine. Artichoke hummus and red grapes.
Hearing: Not-so-baby Emmelia chattering to herself. An old dog howling at squirrels that are prancing around over her head. Old episodes of “Mad Men” over humming bathtub jets.
Seeing: A fire burning for hours; an art I mastered in one weekend after 30 years of never having started my own fireplace fire. Excited? Yes.
Feeling: The warmth from that fire. My nephew Joseph’s tight embrace; he’s been so loving lately. Relief in a met deadline. Disappointment and sadness over rejected gestures. A comforting peace that comes when you allow yourself to get over it. Relaxed after four days of staying (mostly) indoors and bundled up. Layers of blankets on a cool morning.
Smelling: Sugar cookies in the oven. Apple and pumpkin pies, too.