My mother loves the entire season that begins with Thanksgiving and ends when Santa and the reindeer come prancing through. She is the ultimate entertainer, always with a heart of gold and good intentions. I remember the days when she would entertain all of she and Daddy's friends and almost collapse when it was over. That was before she learned that she did INDEED have limits, because that was when she was close to the age that I am now. Lawww! She was a doting grandmother to BG, teaching her to cook at an early age by making little "biscuits" out of bread. Everything I know about cooking, I learned from either she or my babygirl. I switched to olive oil long ago not because it's healthier but it tastes better to me. If you're gonna eat, you might as well enjoy. My co-workers and I love the chicken tenders from the gas station and she'll buy if I fly so we were on like donkey kong today.
The Reaves side of our family is gathering tomorrow at Aunt Mo's place to see if we all still remember each other, pun notwithstanding. Mama's got a pecan pie and is worrying if that's enough to take. Yes ma'am. Mo's sister KY cousin and I are part of a trio who grew up together close enough in age to remember when Christmas was a multi-layered affair with visits from Santa both at home and at my grandmother Gaga's house. She had one of those tacky metal trees when she lived on Wheeler and I'll never forget the way those colored lights twirled around the bottom creating a fairyland. She still had money then, so there was stuff for everybody and their brother all packed up in boxes containing a bunch of little happys. There were seven of us grandchildren and everybody got a bunch of loot. By the time we did Santa at home and ran like banshees following breakfast and presents, it was nappy time again.
The tale of our brood is one that is lived out in American families every day. Grandpa was an honest hard workin' guy during the fifties boom. Made a bunch of money that was thrown at an addict to squander. Yet nobody talked about the secret that was their roles as enablers. During her last years we talked about it some, and she told me that she was sorry for not stopping before it was all gone. She died at the age of 83 with my mother and her sister sharing the cost of that burial. My experience with her lingering in the hospital death is one of the reasons that I believe in angels to this day.
Time to get away from reality for a bit and proceed to believe in miracles. Because like...they happen ^j^