There’s no easing out of Thanksgiving these days. As John and I walk the dogs in the misty, chilly, day-after-Thanksgiving afternoon, I’m impressed to see so many houses on our street already decorated for Christmas. Tree lights flicker in windows. Garland adorns porch railings, and festive red plaid pillows perch in porch swings. I wonder where my neighbor found those cute red pillows, and I wonder where she stores them during non-Christmastime because storing extra pillows takes a lot of space, but mostly I wonder when she found the time to decorate.
Why isn’t everyone piled on the couch watching football?
I can’t go from Thanksgiving to Christmas in a snap. I have to wait a few days and sit with the memories of it all. I realize I’m in the minority, but I can’t move on to Christmas until Thanksgiving settles, else I’ll drown in the over-exuberance of it. Remember as a kid how we weren’t allowed to swim until our lunch settled? Turns out we wouldn’t have really drowned, but we might have gotten a cramp or something. Same thing applies in this situation. I have to let Thanksgiving settle.
And theres a lot of food that needs settling.
Leftovers must now be morphed into other dishes and wedged into the back of the freezer to be enjoyed later on a cold winter night. Later, when I’ll be glad for leftovers.
The house is quiet.
Everyone has returned to the places they call home—Plano, Austin, Denver. We had a wonderful few days together, and I’m reminded again of how blessed I am.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll put away my turkey decorations and toss the pumpkins to the compost.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll replace my fall wreath with something Christmas-y.
But today I’m still hanging out with Thanksgiving and November and the memories of it all.
Grace Grits and Gardening
Farm. Food. Garden. Life.
Avett Brothers, November Blue