Stories from an Empty Nester

The leftovers are now stuffed in the fridge, almost an artwork form of stacked containers, various usage of aluminum and saran wrap. The color scheme is abismal, but the food  delicious, even if I say so myself...and I do. I enjoyed creating this meal for an intermingled group, my boyfriend's family and my own. Now, two days later, I can sit back and savor the memories made that day. Captured on videotape, we will be able to look back and remember them a little bit clearer, at least those on video. Memories made, conversation shared, full bellies all around, but room for one more tiny sliver of pie...maybe.

Aw, but the day also conjures up old memories of days gone by, long since lived and cherished. People no longer on this Earth, but their vivid memory lives on. I make many of my Mom's dishes on hoilidays, a right of passage. Her famous Waldorf Salad, Candied Yams and other dishes. It is when I am chopping and preparing, I feel most close to Mom on the holidays, and think  back to days of my youth. In the kitchen, assigned simple tasks. Back then. I didn't know this was Mom's way of ensuring the recipe was passed on as well as to teach us how to help out. I whined back then wanting to be in the living room watching the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I remember crushing crackers for scalloped corn and crackers. A simple task, and fun when you are a mere 5 years old. But, it was also a lesson. In the recesses of my mind, a video was made of those times and how I ache now to share one last Thanksgiving day with her. To hear her sing along with her radio and watch her dance as she sliced, diced, candied, panned, basted and all that food prep lingo. Eighteen years have passed and I can still see it all so clearly.

Now, that isn't to say she wouldn't eventually scoot us out of her kitchen as she finished up the meal. Nor is it saying she didn't get a little testy if we got underfoot. She did, as do I now at times. I was reminded of that as the boyfriend innocently and nicely, offered his help. Now, I am not complaining, I love when he cooks with me. But, this was a Thanksgiving feast...and I had a list to follow...an order of things...and....ok, so I got a bit moody. Sometimes, I just get so set in my ways, that I don't accept help easily. I took a deep breath, and apologized for being moody and he chooped the onions and celery for the stuffing. For some reason, I heard Mom telling me to take a step back, and remember to be thankful, not so set in my own ways. Once I took that step back, and realized I could get away from "the list", we accomplished more than I could have alone....then I scooted him out of the kitchen.

My brother came for coffee later that night, and the bf told him that I cooked too much...as always, but it was a very good meal. My brother nodded, and smiled at me. He knew. I had learned from Mom, and never reallly learned to trim down the amounts to make. She was feeding at least nine other people at all times, not just holidays. Me? I had three kids and would still make the same amounts she did. Even though we had two combined families this year, there was still an overabundance of food. Enough so that at the end of the day, my daughter took her friend and his co-workers at an ambulance company a full meal...dessert and all.

I just wonder if Mom watches over me, as I feel she does while making the meal. As flashes of those long ago days come to mind, I believe she is. This year, there were two Mom's in the kitchen. Afterall, I was cooking in the kitchen that my boyfriend's Mom used to cook in. His favorite part of her meal was her famous stuffing, for which no recipe was ever written down, not unlike my own Mom who taught me as she went along. My stuffing is not his Mom's, but it is delicious according to her son. As he said, "Noone can make stuffing like Mom's stuffing, because Mom made it." It is true. I find that with my own Mom's recipes. Still, even alone in that kitchen, it was crowded, as I felt both Mom's were there with me. Smiling at the blended families about to share their first Thanksgiving meal together.

Just as Mom used to, once the table is laden with the prepared food, and the last rush to get the gravy done and ready for consumption, I step back. I watch as these people I love so much start the mass feeding frenzy and I smile. Watching their eyes as they scan for their own favorites, and look quizzically at other dishes. Their plates loaded so much that they have to assemble them just so to fit "one more side dish on.." . A plate is shoved at me, "Babe, come on and eat...". But, I am just revelling in the enjoyment of watching these people. People who last year were not in my life more than in a passing way. My own children, minus one milling around the food table. Blending together and I am overjoyed. Aw, but the other son text messaged me during the preparations and we exchanged "I love you"s. All was right in the world.

Yes, I am thankful beyond any other time in my life this year. For the safety of my son who served in Iraq and is now stateside. For the health and wellbeing of my all my children and grandsons. For the surgery on my back and subsequent recovery. The man who entered my life in a time I was not even expecting to ever be in a relationship again. Now, here we are, around a table sharing not only food, but memories.  Thankful may be an understatement. I am thankful for two Moms that brought us into this world, and left us all too soon. But thankful that their memories live on through us and their grandchildren.