Earlier Thanksgiving Week I was riding into town, getting ready to catch the train into the city. A conversation popped up about the Feast Day almost upon us. Many of the women sitting up front were sharing their remembered favorites, things like sweet potato pie. When they spoke their lips smacked and their eyes glistened. Several of the ladies pointed out the diet they enjoyed as children were deemed dangerous by dietitians today. The more I listened, the more I realized we were celebrating the love and the lives of our Grandmothers. Oooh, they worked hard to produce those remembered meals. They worked hard and joyfully, looking forward to the gathering of so many loved ones under the same piece of sky. Every pie, biscuit, casserole, took ages to prepare, real effort to personally mix & whip & peel.
Our bus made a stop at a major intersection and while we waited for the lights to change - we dedicated the rest of our morning ride to the love and memories of those who have gone before.
A trip well taken.