She spread her hands over the festive tablecloth, smoothing it. Now for the china! It had been her grandmother’s, passed down to her mother, and now to her. Tiny flowers and vines in varying shades of pink and green graced each plate’s surface. She arranged a centerpiece of flowers, pinecones, and pumpkins in the middle of the table; carefully placed a crystal goblet at each place, the silverware – just so, and cloth (cloth!) napkins folded into the shape of a rose. A slight smile crossed her face as she stepped back and admired her work.
The scent of baked turkey and dressing, sweet potatoes, cranberry relish, and a plethora of side dishes wafted through the house. Her faithful dog, Cam, trotted up and stood beside her, and she scratched the top of his head as they stood together taking it all in.
She walked slowly to her bedroom and, after some time, came out dressed in her Thanksgiving best. Cam joined her as she gazed out the front window for a long time. She shook herself, and got busy dishing up the feast and placing it all on the beautiful table.
She glanced at the clock and took her place at the head of the table. Her breath caught in her throat as she looked at each empty chair in turn. Then she bowed her head and prayed. She prayed for each dear soul who should be at the table with her; for their fears and their trials and the way they blessed the world. She thanked the Good Lord for so many good things despite privations of job loss, loss of friends, and confusion. For there was much for which to be grateful – for food and shelter, well-being and contentment, faith and hope.
Then she paused, and thought of the governors who restricted families from gathering; the very ones who were probably gathered with loved ones at groaning tables and in lovely homes or, perhaps, mansions. She did not pray for them, though she thought she should. She just considered them. Considered who they had started out to be and who they had intended to be and who they had become.
She patted Cam’s head, and reached for the turkey.
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You are brutally honest.
Some are brutally honest, and some are just brutal. Happy Thanksgiving!