Daniel placed Jenny in her seat and we were off to my mother's house for our traditional Thanksgiving Day feast.
I glimpsed in the back seat to check on Jenny and caught sight of those orange socks she insisted she had to wear today.
I had fought with Jenny about wearing those ugly fuzzy orange socks out, but Jenny ultimately won the battle. Five year olds tend to be very convincing when running short on time.
Jenny of course took off her shoes the moment she entered the door and a streak of orange was off to the kitchen. I giggled at her and headed that way myself.
Wonderful aromas of turkey and dressing filled the air. The kitchen was a mess with bowls scattered to and fro and my mother in the middle of it all with apron on.
This Thanksgiving would be a little different since dad had passed away earlier in the year. Mom stayed strong with the strength only the Lord could provide.
“Did you see the socks mom?”
She giggled. “Ahh. Yes I did. A lovely shade of neon orange. Very festive.”
“I am not sure if festive is the word.” I laughed.
“Well its almost ready if you want to set the table. Your sister and Joe should be here any minute.”
Daniel had found his seat in front of television, while Jenny had found the toy chest and was making sure every last item found its way out and onto the floor.
I sat the table and greeted Lydia and Joe upon arrival. We finished helping mom and washed up.
We each gave thanks and Daniel said the blessing.
The array of colorful foods were passed in their white ceramic homes from one person to the next. The tantalizing aromas filling my nostrils. While the sound of laughter and chatter filled the house, it was a wonderful day.
The only that would of made it better was if dad was here, but I knew he was with Jesus and he was needed there now.
Lydia’s voice pulled me from my thoughts.
“Jenny, I noticed your fuzzy orange socks. Are those your Thanksgiving Day socks?”
“Nope. They are my grandpa socks.”
I had forgotten that dad had given her those last Christmas.
“Your grandpa socks?” Joe asked
“Yep. Grandpa told me before he went to live with Jesus that if I wanted him to be somewhere with me, then I should wear these socks. So I figured grandpa would probably want to be at Thanksgiving dinner, don’t cha think?” Jenny replied as she twirled her fork in her mashed potatoes.
“Yes, I guess he would.” Lydia replied with a smile.
We all smiled, even mom.
That Thanksgiving I was grateful for those orange fuzzy socks and a child who remembered the importance of them.
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