A short story by Mary M. Isaacs.
She looked at her table, which she had just finished setting. The burgundy tablecloth was one of her best; there were matching burgundy candles in the crystal candlesticks. She had spent over an hour polishing the silver and washing the best china, after getting it down from the cupboard over the refrigerator. Now she straightened the silver at each place setting and made sure the water glasses had no spots. She wanted everything to look perfect tonight. The dining room had been cleaned and dusted earlier, the windows washed, and the chairs polished. It looked as lovely as she remembered from all Thanksgiving dinners past.
Suddenly the doorbell rang. She turned away from the table expectantly, whisking off her apron as she hurried to the door. She looked through the peephole and then opened the door with a welcoming smile.
A man in uniform stood there, holding a small arrangement of flowers. “Holiday delivery for Andrews?” he asked.
“Yes, that’s me,” she said, looking at the flowers closely. Red and pink carnations were mixed with small tea roses, with fir, rosemary, and dried statice scattered throughout.
“Kind of an unusual combination, isn’t it?” the delivery man said. “But it looks pretty, and it sure does smell nice.”
“Thank you,” she smiled warmly as she took the arrangement from him. “Wait a minute…” and she picked up a twenty-dollar bill from the small table by the door and handed it to him.
He looked surprised. “Twenty bucks?” he asked, looking at her.
“It IS Thanksgiving Day,” she said. “I really appreciate your being able to deliver the flowers fresh today.”
“Well, thank you! And Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours!” he said, smiling broadly, and then he turned to walk back to his van.
She closed the door while admiring the flowers. They were just right. Carrying them carefully to the dining room, she placed the arrangement in the exact center of the table. It went beautifully with the tablecloth and the candles in their holders. She knew she had chosen well, even though she had ordered them sight unseen.
All at once she remembered the food cooking. While putting her apron on again, she hurried out of the dining room and into the kitchen. Her track record for cooking turkeys was uneven at best, so for this special occasion she played it safe by ordering a fully cooked one. She had picked it up earlier at the grocery store, during its shortened hours, along with ready-made gravy from the deli.
She checked the potatoes on the stove and the sweet potatoes in the oven. The pie had been made the night before and was sitting on the sideboard, ready to be cut and served. The pouches of frozen petite peas were boiling away on the stove–everything was nearly ready. All she needed to do was pull it all together at the last minute…
* * * * *
At last everything was ready. She carried in the turkey, on its platter, and set it on the sideboard in the dining room. The bowls of mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, and peas she set on the table, each with its own silver serving spoon. Cranberry jelly glowed in a cut glass dish. The gravy was in a small pitcher, ready to be poured out. Everything was in its place.
She hung up her apron behind the kitchen door, smoothed down the skirt of her best dress, and sat down at the table. After glancing at the empty armchair at the head of the table, she bowed her head and spoke her father’s favorite prayer aloud. In the silence that followed, she could almost hear her mother’s voice echoing the final “amen”.
As she sat alone at the table, she felt the memories of many Thanksgiving dinners wash over her. The smells were right, the food looked perfect, and the table decorations were as beautiful as ever her mother had arranged. The only difference was the flowers–and she had chosen those specifically for this day. Rosemary for remembrance…she thought. Other years would be different, but for this first Thanksgiving meal without her parents, she wanted to honor and remember her loved ones in her heart, by herself.
As she lifted her glass in thankfulness for their lives, and toasted her parents silently, she felt again the warmth of their love and affection for her; the close family circle that remained unbroken in her memory, even though they were no longer there.
That was something she would remember every day, not just at Thanksgiving.
Mary M. Isaacs — copyright, 2018
To enjoy and support works by Mary M. Isaacs visit our lower right hand sidebar and click THOUGHT PROVOKING CHRISTIAN SHORT STORIES. She has three volumes available at present.
This is one of my all time favorite holiday stories.
Get a box kleenex 🙂
http://westerntractmission.org/R/054/BigWheelTruckStop.shtml
Oh my gosh that made me cry. My sweet mother died three years ago today.
@Brown Eyed Girl–
I wrote this in honor of my parents. I miss them to this day.
It’s an ache that never leaves.
Brown Eyed Girl and author, same here. Miss them on holidays most.
Oh tear jerker, eh? I will come back to read it when I have tissues handy. I’m out in public right now. 🙂
This will be the 3rd Thanksgiving since my mom and dad passed away in 2018. After 64 Thanksgivings and Christmases together with them and the rest of the family I miss them a lot, it’s not the same anymore. From 1953 till 2017 that made for a lot of good memories. My paternal grandmother started a tradition way back in the 50’s of having everyone who ever attended Thanksgiving and Christmas celebrations by having everyone who ever was there of signing a large white table cloth and the year they were there, it is completely full of names of all my family, relatives, friends etc. of everyone who ever had Thanksgiving or Christmas with us for over 60 + years. My youngest daughter has it, it was the only thing that she wanted the most from her grandparents to remember everyone by after my parents passed away and we had to almost steal it from one of my cousins who also wanted it as well.
I’m sure there are many who will be celebrating Thanksgiving alone this year due to the Kung Flu – my Mother-In-Law being one of them.
I have also baked at least 2 loaves of Challah for every Thanksgiving and Christmas since 1976 when I first had Thanksgiving dinner with my soon to be wife and her large Catholic family. It’s a family tradition that my girls both do now every year. I do not know if I am doing it again for Thanksgiving or not but will bake Challah for Christmas. It was something I started back in 1975 when I lived in a house full of 7 hungry guys who were my roommates at the time and have done every year since then. My daughters do a better job of braiding Challah than I do, thank goodness.
Thanks Claudia!
A SNS length comment would follow and prefer to just say THANK YOU! again.
geoff the aardvark, what a wonderful holiday tradition that your family had with the table cloth idea. I’m so glad that your daughter was able to acquire it.
@nunyo bidness-You were right about the tissues. Thank you for posting that.
@This Texan Has Had Enough
I’ve shared this story for years and years now and it makes me cry happy tears every single time I read it.
Lovely story Author.
“…the close family circle that remained unbroken in her memory, even though they were no longer there.”
(for me, miss ya mom, dad and brother Jim)
But that’s US here at IOTWr and some that have gone, both in that family, and in our personal own.
Great ‘little’ story. Very Rockwellian as opposed to Orwellian.
On another note, I could not help from notice the title of the thread and thought, Rosary.
A dear friend brought back the idea of a Rosary to have and say, but then I thought IT also of as a modern daze Amulet to have ON PERSON AT ALL TIMES.
I suggest it very much whether Protestant or Catlick, which I am…
Great story.
My own wonderful mother died way too soon nearly 3 decades ago. And yet, today, right now, I feel her love strong as ever. There’s something about a mother’s love… death is no match for it.
Happy Thanksgiving.
@Geoff the Aardvark – I missed the Cccchaaallah bread mention!
Growing up in the Bronx in a Jewish area, that is why I know it and have you tried making “French” toast with it?
THE BEST.
Got a cousin who turned me on to this place. His mother, my aunt. Came from a family of 7 from Iowa. Moved to California for their fathers health. Her and my mother were inseparable. She was the youngest and the last to go. All seven are now together, finally.
@the author
you’re very blessed to have such wonderful memories of your parents