Thanksgiving--the holiday that smells yummy. Pies baking, turkey roasting, bread rising. This time of year my heart longs for time spent with my family. Somehow, Montana never feels quite right to me at Thanksgiving. For me, it's just a Southern kind of holiday. Thanksgivings past were spent with the Haley side of the family. Food, family, games, laughter, obnoxious loudness, way too much pie, a crowd of aunts, uncles and cousins, and Michelle and I kickin' everyone's butts at Nertz. Oh yeah, good memories.
Tomorrow I would like to be in my mama's kitchen, along with my girls. There would be pie crust making, bread kneading and cornbread dressing fixins. If I know Beebs (and I do), she'd have a pot of some amazingly tasty soup on the stove for us while we are all busily prepping for the next day's feast. Most likely, a movie would be playing in the background, with no one really watching it. The kitchen counters would become a mountain of pots and pans, even as one of us would constantly be washing up.
Thanksgiving morning the good smells start early with the turkey roasting and hot coffee brewing. I have to tell y'all...my mama makes the best mashed potatoes, gravy and dressing ever. Really. The best. Pretty sure she puts all of her love into it. Maybe that's what Thanksgiving tastes like at Beebo's house--love.
Thank you to my sweet mom for all of those meals, for every single one of the gazillions of homemade pie crusts rolled out on your countertop, every loaf of fresh bread, every potato peeled, every stick of butter melted and made into something wonderful. :) It may seem like an inconsequential thing, but it absolutely is not. It is a love offering to us. I know this to be true now that I, myself, am a mom.
Happy Thanksgiving, Beebo and Pappa. Sending love and gratefulness from Montana all the way down to South Texas.