Remembering I have celebrated while wind rocked our cliffside camper with ocean views and barking sea lions. Grandma's patient smile as we played cards in the warm, small inside. I have roasted turkey while feeling cooked in a silver Tallahassee trailer where there was no cool breeze to invite through the windows sweating through my doubts hour by hour. I have welcomed friends, folks, and yet to know arrivals to my table that was extended, folding out into the living room mismatched plates, chairs, and napkins set with open invitation because all, meant all being in one circle of faces. I have driven from afar to a crisp outside Autumn feast appetizers of touch football complete with commentary by the elder generation, and orange-warm grins around a fire pit concluding with pie topped with fishing stories where we laughed until we cried. This day is never the same I am grateful for this, non-tradition. That my expectations are not there to choke out the one constant, the Thanksgiving that I continue to hold memories of love that never fail to show up on this day. © Ali Grimshaw 2020 dVerse Open Link - Come share a poem and read others from this welcoming community of writers.
Be present to it’s taste.