I have been thinking a lot about the holidays and what they mean to me. In particular, how what they mean seems to have changed as time moves forward.
As a child I was mostly influenced by my parents. Birthdays were big in my family as three out of 5 shared the celebrations in early January. Made my birthday special on the years that I did not share it with Mother’s Day.
Religious holidays were treated as such with family gatherings, prayers, candles, wine and good food. My mother always made a beautiful table filled with food, back in the day when I really cant remember anyone bringing anything. She made her graham cracker chocolate pudding pie and that was the only dessert I remember lest someone brought candy for the kids.
I don’t remember Thanksgiving being any big deal until my sister took it on when she had her own house to host it in. She prepares a tremendous feast. I’m usually full after appetizers but continue on through the sweet potatoes, stuffing, and turkey, and even then I manage to force at least one dessert down with coffee. The selection has varied over the years but there are always multiple choices of cookies, pies, and cakes.
This was the first year that my mother was not in the crowd. She gracefully excused herself And this was the first year Thanksgiving was on Saturday. The Saturday thing worked out great, at my sisters and I got to see my mother earlier in the week. Spent some time with her in her new place. I brought us some lunch. Straightened the place up and took care of some paper work and bills. She let me take her picture, a first, without any makeup. She even smiled for the Camera. I couldn’t decide on which pic to post for #Dogwoodweek43 Elderly