cronechronicler

Exploring the poetry of everyday life

Not Your Grandmother’s Thanksgiving

on December 18, 2015

Out to the airport, hop on a plane
To grandmother’s timeshare we go.
No turkey or stuffing or cranberry sauce.
Not even one tiny inch of white snow.
Well now that would have been odd
Since we flew down south to Mexico.

Ours was a Thanksgiving Hollywood movie style.
Family of three sons, three daughters-in-law
Six grandchildren – four boys and two girls –
And me, mom and grandma. Thirteen in all.
Gathered again after four years intervened
Carrying some baggage not checked on the plane.

Family stew so they say is one hearty broth
Magical too if chewed well and digested.
I had hardly unpacked when the melee began.
(Snow storm at the airport messed up my flights
And I finally arrived a day late.
No worry I was brought up to date.)

Old memories were stirred by present events.
Childish shenanigans of my four grandsons
Replayed awful feelings to my youngest son
Of a six-year-old boy teased round the table
By father and big brothers with no one to the rescue.
He finally exploded venting years of old stuff.

This occurred while we grown folks dined at a fine restaurant
Toasting 20th anniversary of youngest son and his wife.
His brother,the eldest, asked what was the matter
And took time to listen though not understanding.
My mother’s ear heard distress, asked a question
“How old is the small boy who is hurting inside?”

Next day was Thanksgiving. We had time to be thankful.
Opening old wounds can bring new beginnings.
Four years ago at our family Thanksgiving, I chose a new life.
I moved “back home”, lest I regret it, to spend time remaining
Near sons,  wives and grandchildren.
I wonder what new thing will unfold in our future?


13 responses to “Not Your Grandmother’s Thanksgiving

  1. Jael Aster says:

    My eyes welled up with the child’s pain.

  2. Luanne says:

    An emotional stew, it sounds like. And that is a good question at the end.

  3. jabrush1213 says:

    An emotional stew filled with distress of a small child.

  4. I loved this, wow an eventful time and much happened!

  5. As my mother or someone said, we do not grow up, we only grow older!

    Great piece. I liked it a lot.

    • vivachange77 says:

      Thanks. I love your mother’s wise words and that growing older saves room for growing up. Change has a way of seeing to that. I was thinking of my youngest son who is forty-five and recollecting that my definitive growing began when I was in my fifties. My horizons keep expanding.

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