My mom insisted that we sit together despite our growing numbers. We shared elbow space and tolerated shoulder rubs. The unfortunate one who was stuck in the middle seat was just that, stuck. I recall more than a few years when I shared a seat with my sister. None of us seemed to mind our jam-packed state, because we were together. And as far as my mom was concerned, there was always room for one more.
COMMENTARY: Cutting off the Clean Power Plan will just hurt us all
Inherent in family life is inevitable adversity. The continuum between joy and sorrow is vast, yet none of us are immune to the unexpected twists and turns of life with each passing year. I take stock of what the last year has brought those I love. The pain of tragedy has walked beside the joys of new beginnings. Yet here we are, ready to gather again. For some, there are newly healed scars from unwelcome trauma. For others, the presence of joy unimagined a year ago is evident. My mom suffered through unimaginable loss, yet each Thanksgiving her smiles of gratitude threw water on the fires of sadness. Her prayerful words to commence our meal centered on gratitude and hope, regardless of what the winds brought us.
Thanksgiving is a simple holiday, where the celebration is centered around the table, the care in food preparation, and the ability to smile with one another. Gathering is cathartic. I realize now how important it was for my mom to have everyone collected. There is power of renewal in being together, regardless of how dry the turkey may be. New little ones, making their debut for their first Thanksgiving, remind those who have suffered loss that hope reigns. Those reconciling disappointments can be encouraged by others who have persevered. Being together is a good reminder.
Opinion: America’s red lines and its lost credibility
My mom has been gone for several Thanksgivings now, yet my heart memory of her kitchen remains an example of how to celebrate in authentic style. My mom set the perfect Thanksgiving table, despite the mismatched silverware and piano-bench seating. Every year in her honor, we too, sit at the same table, whatever it takes. We embrace one another allowing the joys and sorrows of the past year to flow freely beneath the laughter and chatter of the day. And just like my sister and I did in years past, our daughters now share a seat, just in case we need room for one more.
Anne Marie Romer is a regular contributor.
About the Author