Thanksgiving

Right now as I am writing this I am gorging on a hot, buttery roll. Homemade rolls only occur at Thanksgiving and maybe Christmas at the Voss home. They are so light and fluffy and buttery and warm, that it becomes difficult to ignore the temptation to have another roll and then another.

Thanksgiving felt the same way. It was a buttery and warm, fluffy day full of a variety of aromas, sights and sounds. I enjoyed seeing the girls snuggle in blankets on the couch watching the Thanksgiving day parade in their pajamas while Derrick got in some extra treasured sleep.

I loved being in the kitchen rolling out pie dough while thinking of my grandmother since I am using her recipe. I then pulled out Grandma's pretty bowl, that was given to me after her passing, to use for my mashed potatoes and smiled longingly for times past.

My mind is always miles away when I cook, which is probably why I enjoy cooking during the holidays.

I begin the long and sometimes tedious process of preparing my Thanksgiving turkey knowing that, like labor and delivery, the process will be forgotten when the end product is in sight. I remember back to the time my sister emailed the recipe to me and calling her many times after that to seek clarification. I also remember the disaster of brine and turkey breaking the thin bag and splattering all over my kitchen floor late one night because I didn't follow her directions precisely. Smiles of gratitude form on my face because I have a dear sister who was willing to share her secret recipe which I have passed on to others and have gotten many raves from.

Peeling off the skin on the apples in one long strand makes me happy too. I love the challenge of seeing how thin and long the peels can be, trying to outdo the one before with the next one. Sometimes I win and sometimes I fail. I have convinced many a person that yams are soooooo yummy when prepared with apples. My family is hooked on them and eager to indulge in their sweet taste with a hint of cinnamon flavored apples surrounding them. I also use the apples to make a pie from someone who shared their Grandma Ople's apple pie recipe online. I found the recipe online several years ago realizing that with a name like Grandma Ople it had to be good. I imagine Grandma Ople wearing a flower colored apron over her dress and having her white hair folded tightly into a bun standing by the stove mixing the ingredients in a pot. I also wonder if Grandma Ople realizes that her pie recipe is being used by complete strangers across the United States tasting her wonderful pie and I hope she doesn't mind.

I make the centerpiece which reminds me of the LuLu's first Thanksgiving with us. We went to Durango, Colorado to have Thanksgiving with Mike and Shira and both sides of their families. Aunty Shira had the LuLu make the centerpieces which were clear containers full of cranberries and then topped with floating candles. The LuLu was very difficult that first year because she was constantly in doubt that things could be fun and memorable. Full of questions and anxiety we plugged away anyway hoping that time and experiences would conquer the fear. Aunt Shira knew what to do to help ease a young girls mind. We still make the centerpiece for our Thanksgiving table. The girls also help to ensure that the table is set beautifully for the day.

After the parade is over I put in the James Taylor's Christmas album, which brings back so many wonderful memories too. I love James Taylor and usually listen to him when I am melancholy. My favorite memory is playing him in the car while driving to Telluride, Colorado the day after Thanksgiving, LuLu's first. The ride was so picturesque and quaint. We drove through many small, little towns all covered in white. Main streets were snow-packed and had Christmas decorations hung on windows and street-lamps. Deer were spotted sneaking bites from yards in those towns. It reminded me of an old-time Christmas card. My sister Ani was riding with us, along with my family, and my heart was so full of delight. Just playing the CD again I imagine snow outside my window and all of us bundled up warm and snug looking through frozen picture windows.

The smells of hot rolls and roasting turkey begin to waft through the air and through my mind. I am reminded of being a little girl and seeing my mom fold the rolls in half before placing them on the cookie-sheet. I smell the onions and celery frying in the pan to be used as stuffing later on. I hear my mother sing as she stuffs the turkey while my dad places it in the oven. We then begin to set a lovely table- something that the LuLu had only dreamt about before joining the family.

The turkey is finished. It is crispy and brown. All of us are standing around the counter eagerly waiting for little tastes. Derrick, the master carver, gets busy with his carving tools. He first drains the juices for the gravy, which I am finally able to make, because he has shown me how so many times. I am so grateful he is close by to offer help in words because I am not a gravy expert on my own as of yet. The gravy needs no seasonings because of the rich, salty flavor already. It is delicious by the spoonful! The MyMy is eager to taste. Derrick lets everyone taste the bird and oohs and aahs are rising above the steam. Derrick is the master carver. He has it down to an art. He prepares the platter beautifully while answering carving questions from the bystanders.

I am frantically mashing the potatoes wishing that someone else would do the potatoes because I have not yet captured the art to making potatoes. A smirk on my face appears as I wonder who is making the potatoes at my parents house hoping that they have enough knowing that they do and wishing they would send some my way.

My family and the missionaries were gathered around the table offering thanks for all of our many blessings this year. While talking about families so far away, platters full of good food were being passed around the table again and again. Reminders of how blessed we are were constantly stressed in both the sights, smells and sounds. Laughter was spontaneous as many jokes were shared by the girls. My heart was full because the time, preparation and service I had rendered, had evolved to the people I hold most dear, and this is what I wanted.

After stuffing ourselves completely. The table was cleared and time was set aside for games and family time. Memories burst through with after Thanksgiving football games in Grandma's front yard or in the field behind my parents house. Card games were played around the table while football was watched on TV in the other room. Grandma always falling asleep between turns because of getting up so early to prepare the turkey. As an adult, looking through the ads wondering if early morning Black Friday is worth it, and never seeing the need to begin my day so early in the cold and dark.

After several rounds of Taboo, one of the missionaries mentions pie. The game is put away while the pie is cut. The MyMy takes orders from all, while I cut the pie into slices. The MyMy also handles the cream while Derrick handles the microwave for heating. The pie is eaten. The pumpkin is good and Grandma Ople's pie is also very yummy. Some sneak another slice. MyMy opens her mouth and cream is squirted in clear to the brim. She begins to choke while everyone laughs. Of course, her daddy, who played a huge roll in causing this commotion, needs a reminder to help fix the problem before a disaster occurs.

The missionaries do not leave before leaving us with a message on gratitude and prayer. They gather their books, leftovers, and things and prepare for departure- ready to be missionaries again.

The Voss family pulls out more games to play and turns on some football. I realize that the rolls are almost gone and make another pan hoping the feelings of the day will linger on. Derrick puts the turkey bones into a pot of boiling water ready to make his famous after Thanksgiving soup. The hour is late and hot rolls have come out of the oven. Butter melts quickly while the steam rises. We eat savoring each bite realizing that it is now time for bed. The day is over, but hopefully the memories of another warm, buttery, and cozy holiday live on.

Hope your day was happy too!