I wonder do writers ever stop weaving stories? Sitting down with a table full of people always fills my mind with stories, their stories, my story, the story of families past and present and with the grandchildren, the future.
Traditions from my grandparents and parents were present at the table. Though we've dumped the sweet potatoes in favor of baked beans. I bake cottage cheese rolls every holiday and I wonder who'll keep that tradition alive after I'm gone or will they only be a memory like the marshmallow encrusted sweet potatoes. What new traditions will be brought to the table as the family grows?
As I looked around the table full of smiling faces and satisfied bellies, I saw love stories, stories of brothers and step-brothers, a toddler taking his first steps and soon, coming of age stories. And one shy little girl who might one day grow up to be the prom queen.
For all of this, I am thankful. Thankful for the love and caring that flows around my table, for the stories that will grow from this collection of people who share a gene pool, who love each other, but can still call each other names and pick fights. And in the end, that's what families are, an odd assortment of people who gather together in love.
I wish all of you peace and happiness on this Thanksgiving Day and all the beautiful stories and memories your mind and heart can hold.
3 comments:
No one in my family, growing up, ever told stories at the table. They argued over politics mostly. It must be a nice tradition. Happy holiday!
Great post, Sandra and I just spent the day over great food with great family stories--which I'd never heard before--new family and new friends this time!
And thank you for all the links you send our way and two terrific stories that made up BTAP's first year.
Happy Thanksgiving!
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