Chapter 24 - The Thanksgiving Return
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Thanksgiving at our house was a quiet affair.
Daniel roasted a turkey. I managed the side dishes, strictly following the recipes to avoid any culinary disasters. Grace sat at the kitchen island, peeling potatoes and listening to a podcast.
There was no tripod in the corner. There was no bright lighting rig. No one shouted instructions to smile or pretend to steal a dinner roll for a thumbnail image.
Michael arrived with a bottle of sparkling cider and a pie from a local bakery.
"I brought dessert," Michael announced, setting the box on the counter. "Because I love you, but I do not trust your oven."
"A wise and medically sound decision," I agreed, taking the box.
We ate at the dining room table. The conversation flowed easily. Michael talked about his garage renovations. Daniel discussed a new architectural software he was learning. Grace complained about her upcoming kinesiology exam.
It was breathtakingly ordinary.
"Do you remember when Thanksgivings used to be a production?" Michael asked suddenly, pausing with his fork mid-air.
The room grew slightly still. We rarely invoked the past so directly during holidays.
"I remember the year Sabrina made us carve the turkey three different times to get the right angle," Daniel said quietly. "The meat was cold by the time we actually ate it."
"And Evelyn made me wear that itchy velvet dress," Grace added. Her tone was light, completely devoid of trauma. She was stating a fact, not opening a wound.
"You hated that dress," I said.
"I really did," Grace smiled. "I threw it away the day after the trust was settled."
"Good," Michael said, raising his glass of cider. "To warm turkey and comfortable clothes."
We raised our glasses.
"To ordinary days," Grace added.
May you like
We drank to that.
The ghosts of Clover House Kids were not entirely gone, but they were no longer sitting at the table with us. They had been relegated to the past, locked away in destroyed hard drives and sealed court records. We owned our holidays now.
