“The holidays are a time of joy, bright lights, warmth and family. The aroma of turkey cooking in the oven. The women in the kitchen, talking, laughing and whispering secrets which will never be known by others.
My mother, never one to leave anything to the last minute, arose early each holiday morning to begin the meal. My father, holding instructions in front of her bespectacled face, as she carefully read, mixed ingredients and read more. The holidays were an event. The special china set out on the table. The special tablecloth, a pastel pink embroidered with lace. And then, there were their faces.
Especially their faces. My father looking tired but pleased with himself for having contributed. And my mother. Her face glowing and her eyes shining bright. Her son had come home. Family.”
