My mother is coming for Thanksgiving, and I feel myself slipping into Martha Stewart mode. If I could, I would empty out the entire house, scrub it down, reorganize everything, and paint all the walls. But I’ll be lucky if I can get the carpets cleaned and put dinner on the table.
Apple pie and turkey scents will waft through the house. Smiles and laughter will mix with love and gratefulness. The dining room will be transformed into an Autumn wonderland with the colors of the season lighting up the inviting table.
The meal will cook itself easily and I merely have to smile and open the oven with a flourish to reveal a huge bird with crisp, golden brown skin while my hungry loved ones gather around with Thanksgiving appetites.
We’ll find our places at the table amidst the usual last-minute race to get everything out at once, nice and hot. Our eyes will bulge as the delicious dishes make their way around the room. More laughter and conversations tumble over one another like warm clothes in a dryer.
And I will be exhausted, happily, and delighted, filled with a sense of family and belonging for those moments that will have to last me awhile.
I have a to-do list as long as my arm.
And I can’t wait.