“Grandma and Grandpa, what are you doing here?”
My parents live five hours away and we only see them a few times a year. When they come to visit, I always give my kids a heads-up. I would especially do it if they were to come the day before Thanksgiving!
I'm getting ahead of myself, so let me back up and explain a few other details . . .
As with most families, we alternate the place we go for Thanksgiving between my family and that of my wife. This year we were to make the four-hour drive to Mantua, Utah to be with Jenelle's family. Thanksgiving is always a double-edged sword for me. I love visiting either side of the family, especially with members whom I rarely see. But on the other hand, my job only allows one day off, which means it is always a quick and miserable trip, leaving in the dark on Wednesday, and returning in the dark on Thursday.
And I'm always worried about the weather. The end of November can always send a squall that will jab you in the heart if you're not careful. We've been caught in several snow storms over the years. I remember one Thanksgiving coming home from Monticello when we landed ourselves in a white-knuckled adventure in the mountains near Salina on I-70. We spent two hours at nine o'clock in the evening waiting at a rest area, bundled in blankets, before continuing the harrowing drive home.
As we kept an eye on the weather report, I became more concerned. It seemed that with each passing day the forecast became more dire. What began as a chance of rain turned into seven inches of snow, both on Wednesday and Thursday. On Monday we made the difficult decision to cancel our plans to Mantua and spend the holiday by ourselves at home.
I should inject here that this time of year is a difficult time for us. My daughter, Brittany, passed away around the holidays seven years ago. In fact, the day before Thanksgiving would have been her 21st birthday. Since her passing we have always celebrated her birthday by eating Thai fried rice, which was the last meal she ever fully ate.
So now that plans had changed, the busy work began. We had to buy turkey, pies, whip cream, stuffing, corn and all the good food that comes with Thanksgiving. We had never eaten Thanksgiving dinner with just our family. With Brittany gone, there are only four kids now, all of them in the house, except for Jordan who lives in town. It would be a simple dinner, but of course now we would have to do all the work.
The day before Thanksgiving was one of the craziest days I've experienced in a long time. First of all, the weather was insane! We knew the storm was blowing in, but we didn't think it would blow in like a hurricane. Gusts had to be around 60 miles per hour! With snow already on the ground, our entire town looked like a cloud of powder. Trash skidded across the streets and flaps of siding dangled from rooftops. Mammoth pine trees were toppled. Semi trucks were tipped over on the freeway like matchbox cars. And I had to work in all this!
That's when Savanah answered the door. Jenelle sent me a photo-text with a picture of my parents sitting in our living room. Now it was all coming back to me . . .
My mom had called me about a month ago and asked what we were doing for Thanksgiving. When I told her we were traveling to Mantua, she said that was too bad because they were actually going to be traveling through our town on their way to St. George. They were going with my brother and his family to California the day after Thanksgiving, but as for Thanksgiving day, they had no place to eat. Their plan was to find a Chuck-o-rama or other establishment that would serve a Thanksgiving dinner. And I didn't give it a second thought because I knew we would be gone . . . or so I thought.
When our plans changed, the fact that my parents would be passing through town never entered my mind. But once Jenelle notified me they were here, my memory was quickly jogged. I now recalled that they didn't have a place to eat. “We should invite them to eat with us,” I texted Jenelle. She agreed.
But what came next took me off guard. Jenelle texted back and said that Adam would be coming, also. Adam is my brother that is traveling to California with my parents. The snow ruined their Thanksgiving plans, too. He has a wife and three kids. So, on a dime, our Thanksgiving plans changed from a simple meal with six people, to a feast with thirteen.
The next twenty-four hours was spent buying more food and preparing what we could. Jenelle was the mastermind behind everything and made most of the dishes. Wednesday evening I made the fried rice and we ate ice cream and cake after dinner. Then we reminisced on memories of Brittany while sitting in the living room.
Early Thursday morning we put the turkey in the oven, then spent the next several hours baking rolls, whipping up potatoes, dicing vegetables and a plethora of other chores associated with Thanksgiving dinner. The guests arrived around around 11:00 and they too pitched in. The kids played Carcasonne in the hallway and my dad watched a Spaghetti Western.
Everything came together remarkably well. As we ate dinner, all the bites and drops tasted magnificent. Snow had fallen over night, so all was white, but by now the roads outside had dried. It was a pleasant day for conversation.
One more aspect to this holiday made it special. The last time we hosted a Thanksgiving dinner in our home was twenty-one years ago. You guessed it . . . the year that Brittany was born. Because Jenelle was due any day, my family decided it was best to travel to us instead of making us travel to them. Jenelle prepared most of the dinner that year also. We ate a sumptuous meal and the next day, early in the morning, we both drove to St. George where Jenelle was induced. Later that day a healthy baby girl was born. She came with dark hair and wide hazel-colored eyes, perhaps with a hint of blue. She appeared very alert and aware of her surroundings. On that day we nicknamed her pumpkin. ♠
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