Thanksgiving Farewell

The annual gathering and leaving that keeps us one.

It doesn’t seem that long ago when shaking off a tryptophane overdose
From the night before, you arranged all the items that had to fit into the
Trunk of the car in the driveway and began to exercise the science of 
Making it all fit.  Grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles all gathered,
The men commenting on your packing efficiency, the women discussing
The Christmas plans.  You had the longest drive and had to get underway
Shortly, knowing the traffic out of the city would be the most hellish part.

Inside one last time, scanning for any items left behind and surveilling the 
Stack of china and silver, now cleaned and ready to be returned to their
Cupboards and drawers to await the next family gathering.
Outside the hugs come in waves, too tight or too brief, the “Drive safe”
Repeated by all like a talisman against the hum of the open highway.
Away, and the house shrinks in the rearview mirror, the gathered
Clan still waving till the car is finally out of sight.

On the road, George Winston tinkles heartwarming tunes as the 
Children drift off in the back; the dog sprawled across their laps.
Down the Shenandoah Valley, tracing Jackson’s retreat, we lunch in 
Lynchburg and hurry along, chasing the dwindling afternoon light.
Christmas music fills the car as the two of you discuss the annual
Letter to all, scheduled to be composed upon return and recall
The stories traded in the previous days late into the night.

We no longer return there, though the memories stay alive.
The turkey is prepared here now and the sides.  
Where once we scuttered about the kitchen helping where we could
Now we direct the traffic and prepare the food.
The traditions continue with some added for good measure.
It is thus with families, the stories and the tales that keep those
That have gone before alive and at the table still.

Now we watch as the car in the driveway is packed and children and
Grands prepare to fly home, our house having been warmed with
Their stay.  We will prepare for Advent, and the coming grace.
The air is soft, a hush that follows gratitude and the world feels farther,
 Wide and off as if it waits in quietude, and though they leave, the echoes stay.
For leaving is just a tender thread in the long tapestry we weave:  one day we
Gather, break our bread, the next, we fold our hearts and leave.

Had most of the family home for the Thanksgiving meal…I hope you all did too. We can put aside our differences, break bread and love.