A Thanksgiving Turkey

Candles flicker. The children talk happily at the dinner table. Adults joke in the kitchen filling their plates with turkey meat and ham, gem squash and peas, mashed potato and cauliflower au gratin. I sip champagne and live Will and Glenda's stories of the family trip to Europe this past summer (see Memoir on Paris July 2010).

The opulence of Versailles, the majesty of the Eiffel Tower and the sounds of Barcelona accompany our Thanksgiving turkey dinner replete with autumn leaves scattered on the table. Stories of travel abound. I feel wanderlust stir in me again.

I call my thoughts back to this Canadian autumn and our Thanksgiving dinner with long-time friends: thirteen years of friendship with Will and Glenda, and an even longer friendship with Reid and Allie, who were guests at our wedding. We catch up on news and happenings in each other's lives.

Were we together for Thanksgiving dinner last year? somebody asks. And we all rattle our memories twelve months. Yes, Glenda says, remember it was at our place and such and such were there too. Yes, yes, that's right, we all agree. Was that just a year ago? It seems so much longer.

A long while after dinner and dessert, we pull ourselves from pending slumber on the couches to collect in the hot tub. The October night air is brisk on my skin. I enjoy the warmth of the water. Glenda joins me, as do Will and Reid. M hops in and the water rises even more. This is going to overflow as soon as Allie gets in, someone says. Yes, says Will, this hot tub is a bit small for six adults and a turkey.

We laugh, and laugh again. Put Paris and Barcelona on hold, this hot tub is just the place I want to be.