The morning is crisp and the clouds hang low. I wonder if all the geese have flown as my heart aches for my home. A place where the geese and ducks chatter in the icicle air and the cornfields lay bare in hopes for a blanket of snow. It is hard not to daydream about the possibility to capture a moment in time when I was little and time ran slow, time to sit and watch the birds in the air, the leaves fall and the waves lap at the shore.
I recall the anticipation packing my bags for it was “Over the River and through the Woods to Grandmothers House we go…” the station wagon(s) knew the way to carry the family away. To the house of tradition, trivia pursuit, reserved turkey legs, too many kids, peas we never ate and fingers in the pie on the cold porch.
I long for a glimpse of one of those days, to hear us singing America the Beautiful, to hear that laughter from my cousin and I both in our plaid and paten leather as we hold our bellies rolling, to see my Grandmother again elegant, calm, collected, happy to have her children and her grandchildren in church beside her. I can almost smell her hints of rose and early morning cooking. Was she ever worried about the turkey as we walked to and from Thanksgiving day Mass?
This morning is quiet and I am thankful for all, all the love I have in my life the caring, compassionate, considerate, and kindness that surrounds me in my friends and family. I am thankful for the ancestors of my family tree. I am thankful for the bounty of the earth, from sea to shining sea for purple mountains majesty. For the beauty of the earth and for the Indians of First Encounter Beach and all throughout Massachusetts and Rhode Island for keeping those pilgrims alive, for having Amazing Grace and mercy on another human being.
If you can’t recall the whole story about Squanto and his return from Spain as a slave and his ability to speak English and Mr. Bradford and the other pilgrims, let us at least remember the great giving and forgiving that the native Americans had. Their wisdom that there is more in peace in understanding than in fighting and conquering. Let us be thankful that theimposing winter will not kill us because we are rich, rich with food, warmth and security. Rich with more than we ever really need.
My own children anticipate Thanksgiving for it’s endless Monopoly games, cards and scrabble. They hope for snow, they daydream about the sweets and gravy. We know they don’t wonder if the pies will make the trip in the car or if the stuffing is too dry or what to wear or when to start ironing or if they are clean or if the house is in order, neither do they reminisce like I, they are in the midst of making memories.
America the Beautiful we prepare to be thankful for your bountiful harvest from the land we love. Theday we gather, we give thanks, we break bread at the table and count our many blessings. When we’ve been here ten thousand years bright shining as the sun, we’ve no less days to sing God’s praise than when we first begun.