Missing

"I feel like a snake," Asaph said after getting really super full at the Golden Corral with Grandpa. I laughed.
"That's an informed joke."
Asaph sits beside me playing Mi Bello Angel. He plays each string in a beautiful way, but I got bored of it already so I wish he would play something else.
Ephraim is napping.
Now Asaph is reading what I am writing.
"I ain't a farmer, but I'm darn sure gonna be."
This isn't like any Thanksgiving I've had. What it's been for me is something more along these lines--
Every family member that can cook has a couple things to make. Usually one of them is one that we pick, and the other is one that just has to get done. Once I was in charge of mashed potatoes; they didn't turn out too well because I didn't like that kind of food. You know how that is; you don't like it, you don't make it. Or else. So, we'd work Thanksgiving and the day before planning for a big feast--more than just our family could eat. By the time my feet were sore just from standing up so long, company would arrive and it'd be time to socialize. I would get Mama to leave me tending whatever she had in the kitchen so I could get used to the idea of having people around. Badness, I sometimes went and hid in a dark room for a minute or two at the first sound of someone's voice!
But finally, we'd sit around the table and eat food that can only be so good when you make it yourself. My favorite thing is turkey and stuffing and gravy--I know, the most basic "Thanksgiving food".
After that the adults would set around in the living room and talk boringly, and we all would run around, jump on the trampoline, play and what'all with other people that came over. Somehow, Mr. Baxter would often find a way to come over, and I always felt better with him there. Most people make me feel nervous, but Mr. Baxter is family. It was like spending time with someone you wished was there more often--you really savored it.
I'm missing it.
So, today, it's not a Thanksgiving day feeling at all. And unlike Idaho, where it was crisp and cold and frost stayed on the leaves till midday, it rains and there's mud (unscrubbable) in the entryway. It's unscrubbable because for one thing, it's clay, and for another, well... we DO have some washcloths, but who wants to risk running out? You gotta wait for dry weather to even hope for dry laundry.
The End