They would sit around cursing for days about all the extra effort it was. ” I still have to go to the store, I still have to clean the house, I still need to cook the turkey.”
“Who are we trying to impress,” I used to wonder. I mean, I can never recall anyone of any importance coming by for Thanksgiving, or any other day for that matter. If anyone did come by, I can assure you that they did not stay long.
We were not a family of football lovers. We were not Indians or pilgrims. And we didn’t really even like each other, but every year we did the same ritual as every other family. The only difference was, our routine was tempered with an air of misfortune and discomfort for all those involved.
There was one thing that my brothers and I could count on that would add delight to the day. It was a homemade “dip” for chips, veggies and just about anything else you could slather with an onion, mushroom and cream cheese condiment. The “dip” itself was a holiday miracle since my three least favorite ingredients in all the world are onions, mushrooms and cream cheese. However, when added together — blended and refrigerated overnight, it created the most wonderful food of the year! I did not require turkey, stuffing, ham or cranberry sauce, but I would go to bed on Thanksgiving Eve with a rumble in my belly ready to wake up and eat as much of the creamy, white deliciousness as I possibly could.
So while other families did whatever they did, for the next 30 days I ate dip. From Thanksgiving to Christmas as much and as often as I could, I would stuff my little fat face with my mother’s homemade secret. Chips, wheat-thins, pretzels, broccoli, carrots, bread, cauliflower and my tiny, greedy, little fingers were the perfect pallet for the delicious madness.
I will “celebrate” tomorrow alone. Finding myself surprised that all the stores are closed, just like I have for the years that have passed. I will peer out my window and watch as cars pull up to my neighbors’ homes with smiling passengers bringing gifts. I will wonder if they are really as happy as they appear to be. I will already know the unfortunate answer without having to ask.
I WILL wish I had a huge bowl of my mother’s dip all to myself that I could eat until my stomach hurt. However, I will remember I am no longer a child and for that I will be grateful.
