Claire's family bustles in late after their long drive. Suitcases, bags, goodies and children are shuttled into the house. We pause on the front steps and look at the stars. I reach inside to turn off the lights. Turning back to the sky, the stars now appear brighter and the space between them is blacker. Two or three us point out constellations as we strain our eyes to see what is there.
After greetings and hugs, they carry belongings off to their rooms. Then everyone returns to the kitchen for a little catching up before we are all off to bed.
It was a good day's work. The pies are baked, some side dishes are partially cooked and refrigerated, bread for stuffing is cubed, cranberry salad prepared, lists and recipes wait their turn on the counter. Everything is staged to perform on its big day. I have prepared this meal every year for decades. It runs like a well oiled machine. The only variations have been the number of people sitting at the table to eat it. Sometimes there have been twenty-three and other times six or seven. It has never been two.
I pulled into the gas station and waited behind a car being fueled. I realized it was my friend, Farhana. I turned off my engine and got out of the car to greet her. We hugged and chatted while she pumped her gas. She is on her way to Tennessee for the holiday. We agreed to meet up after she is back. She said has Christmas ornaments to give me and I said I have Steve's hot sauce to give her.
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