I Remember Waking up Thanksgiving morning With my parents home full of the smells of my childhood.
Sweet pototoes cooking early in the morning Mingling with the scent of black eyed peas already ready
Chicken and cornbread scattered on the table to mix into the dressing each of us children tried to imitate but never duplicated.
Where daddy ate and whistled as he cooked and was almost too full to eat when it was ready. Where we played music at the piano while we waited.
And family would show up at different times and I’d run to the door each time the dog alerted us.
And we sat and talked.
I sat and listened.
Trying hard to memorize the sounds of the laughter knowing those moments even as a child would always be rememebered.
Where I sit now and remember them.
As fresh in my mind as yesterday.
Where I will not return back to the table I once sat. I’ll sit at a new one with familiar faces.
And memories that replace the quiet smells that call me back to my bedroom
Waking up Thanksgiving morning
That little girl.
Excited to open the door.
And let in the memories.