It happened again this week.
I was sitting in a restaurant eating an omelet and texting back and forth with friends about what to bring for Thanksgiving dinner. As of yet, no one had volunteered to bring the dressing.
Andrea, my waitress, walked over to fill my tea glass, “Do you know how to make dressing?” I asked her.
“No, I don’t.” she said rolling her eyes, obviously overwhelmed by the idea. “I wish I did. My mom makes dressing, but I’ve never learned how. I probably should.”
“I know.” I agreed. “My mom always made the dressing too and always without a recipe. She just sort of knew what she was doing and put it all together. I would have no idea.”
We chatted for a few more minutes about holiday foods and traditions and then she left to take care of her other customers.
I went back to the list. So far we had sign-ups for turkey, sweet potatoes, cranberry sauce, pumpkin pie, broccoli salad and green bean casserole.
No dressing yet.
I decided to jot down my own list of possibilities…squash casserole, pea salad, Mom’s noodles (nope, too messy), dressing?
“Why did I never ask her how to make the dressing?” I said out loud to no one in particular.
That’s when it happened…
the unexpected rush of emotion… the tears… the intense desire for just one more conversation.I ducked my head hoping no one in the restaurant could see me. Overwhelmed with grief, I experienced a rush of memories I hadn’t thought about in years and felt a deep, intense longing for what used to be.
Growing up in our house Thanksgiving was always the same. Mom usually cooked most of our menu a day ahead so we could watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade together in the morning. It was just the two of us, I have no idea where my dad and brother were during that time.
She would sit in Dad’s recliner with a cup of hot apple cider. (Really just apple juice she ran through the coffee percolator filled with red hot candies.) I would stand in front of the TV with my baton in hand and twirl with the twirlers. We loved the Rockettes the best and waited patiently for Santa to arrive because “our Christmas doesn’t start until Santa comes to Macy’s.”
Dinner never did either. No food could be served until Macy’s Parade was over.
Our menu was always the same: Turkey, dressing, noodles, pea salad, Dream Whip salad, a relish plate with baby gherkin pickles and black and green olives (which I stuck on the end of my fingers and ate off one at a time until mom noticed), instant mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce from a can, sweet potatoes, and pecan and pumpkin pies.
Our afternoon was spent watching the Oklahoma University Sooners play the Nebraska University Cornhuskers — a storied Thanksgiving rivalry that was replayed every year before a national audience. In those days they showed the halftime band performance, so, naturally, I would grab my baton and dance along once again. (Sometimes I twirled right into the third quarter and my brother would start yelling for me to get out of the way.) Somehow we always managed to squeeze our Thanksgiving dinner in-between the parade and the football game.
“Sweet memories,” I whispered, reaching for an extra napkin to stop the tears streaming down my face. Taking a deep breath, I looked at my list, typed in the word “dressing” and hit send. Guess it’s time I learned something new.
Then I giggled. “I miss you mom. There is a lot I want to ask you. But today I mainly want to ask you how in the world you made that dressing.”
She has been gone from this earth for almost four years.
She was gone from us (due to Alzheimer’s) long before that.
This is old — but it is one of my favorite photos of the two of us. She was telling me something…wish I could hear it again.
Claudine….. I am wiping a tear from my eye as I sure miss my Mom every day (8 years) and there is not a day go by that I don’t want to pick up the phone to call her to ask or tell her something. Thank you for a wonderful memory that you have shared with us. Isn’t it wonderful that we can still shed tears over the loss of our Mother’s? That our love was so deep and real that we miss them so much. I hope your dressing is the best ever and you will be the official “dressing bringer” each year. Have a blessed Thanksgiving with your family. (Dianna uses Chris’ mother’s dressing recipe….not mine 🙂
p.s. Be sure to let us know how it turned out…
Sharon, I’ll keep you posted. I have some Stove Top on standby.
Claudine, I am in the same boat…lol. Never have and probably never will master the dressing recipe. But I do keep trying! Here’s to us doll. Happy Thanksgiving to you and Larry…
Treva