(Part 2 of “The first Thanksgiving without mom. )
Did I know how to bake a turkey?
Absolutely not. But I had my well-worn copy of the Joy of Cooking cookbook. Highly recommend it. It is by Irma S. Rombauer, Marion Rombauer and a few others. It can help you with any cooking challenge.
I was fully prepared to channel both Martha Stewart and my mother. Not for the perfect dining tablescape. I wasn’t aiming for magazine ready. No, I just wanted the best tasting, pretties turkey I’d ever made, with all the Appalachian touches I learned from my mom and aunts.
This wasn’t a Norman Rockwell, picture-perfect Thanksgiving dinner. No, this was a true Appalachian Thanksgiving, paper plates, plastic utensils, and the precious butter bowls saved for the left overs.
I got home and the dogs were excited, honestly it was a little strange having them be the only ones excited to see me. But they’re my pups. And I wasn’t going to dwell on last year. I was determined to focus on this turkey.
I poured a glass of my favorite cheap wine, turned on the Christmas music and got to work. I was elbow deep in garlic and butter when an old Christmas song she loved came on.
I could see her dancing around the kitchen, laughing and singing, telling me “Come on Dani, shake it!” Oh those normal everyday things we lose when they pass. So precious and comforting.
I laughed at the memory, still do. Then the kids came barreling through the door, the bestie right behind them. Surprisingly, the kids even complimented what I’d done so far. It was actually looking good. I kept working on the turkey while they talked excited about being out of school.
Our chatter drifted to my mom, how much she loved the holidays, how fun everything felt when she was around.
I was actually enjoying the day, even looking forward to Thanksgiving. For the first time it really felt like maybe this “new okay” wouldn’t be so bad.
After about four hours or prepping and rereading every step, the turkey was finally ready for tomorrow.
Damn… not bad.
The hardest part of that Thanksgiving? Waking up and not seeing mom in the kitchen.
I spent the day talking and FaceTiming with different family members and arguing nonstop with my brother over text about football and how to cook a real turkey.
All the while, I kept a close eye on my own turkey and on whatever my husband and daughter were attempting to make.
I wasn’t too worried about ruining the turkey. We had a shrimp cocktail platter and very old frozen pizza as backup if things went completely tits-up on us. One way or another, it was going to be a Thanksgiving none of us forgot.
It was a cirtrus turkey. I’ll let you imagine whatever you want about what all I stuffed in there.
What, you thought I was about to say I burned it?
As you can see in the picture, it actually turned out pretty damn good for my first turkey. (And wasn’t dry at all.)
We all enjoyed the turkey and other dishes. We laughed, ate too much, and watched the kids running around in the yard.
There was nothing remarkable about the day. Except that it was our first holiday without mom. It was hard, but we also had so much fun.
We even had a few leftover sparklers from the Forth, so to honor the new kind of Thanksgiving, the kids set them off in the yard.
Later, we built a fire and told scary stories while we made s’mores. It was a clear cold night, the starts on full display. And I am forever a sucker for a starry Appalachian sky. I know she was up there somewhere, smiling down.
The first year is tough. For a lot of us, the memories of that last holiday come rushing in. They hurt, and them might even make you shed a tear. But what kind of life would we have without those precious moments?
Especially, the last holiday we got to spend with them.
I won’t say it gets easier; it just becomes the new normal we learn to live with. Talk about your loved ones who are gone, or hold them quietly in your heart.
Whichever is the kindest for your soul and truest to them.
Happy Thanksgiving! May your turkey or whatever your holiday main course be, turn out delicious. And may you make new memories while sharing the old ones with a smile and a laugh.
