Every year on Thanksgiving, my family and I go around the table and take turns listing what we’re each thankful for. One thing never fails to make my list: I am truly thankful that my mother cooks dinner for us. I don’t have to do a thing (besides make the gravy because… well… let’s just say gravy isn’t exactly her best dish). The rest of the dinner is her gift to us. Actually, I think she mostly does it for me. It feels like she does it just for me. And I can’t properly express you how much I appreciate it.
I’ve made Thanksgiving dinner. It’s hard, people! There are a lot of different side dishes, the turkey has a mind of its own in terms of cook time and the mess is just this side of disaster relief. I’d rather order a pizza than go through that again.
Maybe that’s why I’m so grateful for her efforts. Because I know that someday, I will probably have to do it again. There will come a time when I will have to take over her duties. Until then, I want her to know just how much I appreciate what she does. So, I tell her. And when I do she glows.
Gratitude is like that. It turns a family obligation into a treasured gift, a simple act into a grand gesture, a bowl of mashed potatoes into a fine delicacy… Okay, I may have gotten a little carried away with that last one. Mashed potatoes are nobody’s delicacy – unless they’re topped with my gravy.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone! I am grateful for your presence in my life!