Maybe the Thanksgiving Magic will Stick Around

barry currin, stories of a world gone mad, beaverdamusa.comI was busy last week.

It started last Sunday with an all-day obligation. Then, three of the five weekdays had both before- and after-work functions on top of lots of meetings in between.

Over the weekend, I was looking at my calendar for this week and delighted in seeing only two appointments, which were both on Monday. I couldn’t believe it.

I closed my eyes and imagined all the things I would accomplish.

I would be able to flesh out some of my big ideas that perpetually get pushed forward because of more pressing obligations.

I might clean off my desk. Or, maybe I would put all the files in their correct folders on my laptop.

I might even rest one afternoon.

Oh, boy, I was excited.

After about 15 seconds, though, my excitement was overtaken by another feeling.

There it was highlighted in light blue on my calendar, right smack dab on the middle of Thursday:

Thanksgiving Day.

Inexplicably, I had forgotten for a couple of minutes this was Thanksgiving week.

I can blame this on a couple of things. First, being self-employed means I don’t have upcoming days off circled in red on the calendar anymore. Second, our child is toughing it out in the Mediterranean for 9 months, so he won’t be with us for the first time in 24 Thanksgivings.

My disappointment at losing what might’ve been a relaxing week gave way to good feelings fairly quickly because I love Thanksgiving.

One of my favorite slivers of the year is Thanksgiving evening when too much food on top of the exhaustion of helping get everything ready gives way to a blissful semi-comatose state for a few hours.

As you know, though, the preparation for Thanksgiving can be pretty stressful.

First is the trip to the grocery store. Looking for a parking place and dealing with the hordes of people who apparently only grocery shop once a year is not for the faint of heart.

For me, the proposition of thawing the turkey isn’t much fun. I am in charge of cooking the meat, so this one hits home with me. 

One day too long thawing in the fridge, and I am convinced I’m going to put my heaving family on the national news. My bigger fear, however, is tossing a half-frozen tom on the smoker and having to explain to everyone why the Thanksgiving meal is a midnight snack this year.

I don’t love getting the turkey ready to cook. I always think maybe those vegetarians have a point when I’m pulling out all those little sacks of things. It’s like clowns pouring out of a car. There always seems to be one more giblet hiding in there somewhere.

All the stress and anxiety is worth it, though, when we sit around the table and tell what we’re thankful for.

I feel pretty lucky when thawing a turkey is among my biggest problems. Sometimes, I feel guilty because of it.

Not everyone has a feast. Not everyone drives to grandma’s house or has a yard full of cars in their driveway on Thanksgiving Day.

I tend to think more about those less fortunate this time of year, and I suspect we all do.

Maybe next Thanksgiving I will be proud of myself for keeping that Thanksgiving feeling alive all year long.

About Barry Currin

Barry tries to be funny and poignant, and he's usually satisfied when he succeeds with one or the other. (Being both is awesome. And sometimes that happens.) Email him:

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