Giving thanks

Thanksgiving with two small people is ... different. In my family, Thanksgiving dinner has always been a white tablecloth, seated dinner affair. This is likely a function of the fact that we are a small family, no matter how you look at it.

Years ago, when I was little, we went to New York for Thanksgiving. My dad and my uncle would take me into the city to watch the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I will let you in on a little known secret - the parade is much better viewed in the warmth of your house sitting on your very own cushy sofa. In fact, typically we would be cold and tired and end up in a coffee shop drinking hot chocolate and watching the parade on TV while it passed by us inches from our noses. Nonetheless, I always feel the pull of nostalgia when I watch the parade every Thanksgiving. We would head back out to Brookville and into a house that was filled with the best smells you could imagine. My mother, grandmother and aunt would be standing in the kitchen, finishing each other's sentences and being generally silly. The Fuller women are, without a doubt, silly creatures. I hope I have inherited some of it myself.

The first Thanksgiving I spent with Billy's family - which was also the first holiday of any kind I had ever spent away from my family - was a total shock to me. Billy's family is large. And centralized. So when approximately 30 people showed up for Thanksgiving dinner at the Poynter household I almost fainted. I will happily admit that I was totally traumatized by that day, mostly because it was just something different. And let's face it, we all fear change. This was only accentuated by the fact that when I finally went to make a plate of food, the table was virtually bare. Billy had warned me that this would happen but I naturally (a) didn't believe him and (b) was of the mind that the cook always eats last. My mistake. I have come to absolutely love these Thanksgivings. They are loud (only from me would this be a compliment) and raucous and celebratory and full of stories, laughter and shared memories. And I have also learned not to be the last to the table...

Two very different kinds of Thanksgivings and I love both of them equally.

We shared this Thanksgiving with old friends. A small group but a festive one. Jack had his first Shirley Temple and we made a hell of a meal. But my favorite memory of the day was when I noticed my mom and Jack were noticeably absent. I pulled up the tablecloth, looked down and found them .... playing underneath the table. No matter how old a Fuller woman gets, she is always silly at heart.

One final note on the subject of giving thanks. I now have a new car. New to me at least. I was finally worn down by my parents and Billy and, having recently been in a side collision with the boys in the car, agreed to get a car with side airbags. It might seem ridiculous to talk about giving thanks to a car, but Toonces has been with me for twelve years. [Toonces got its name because my father thought it would be HI-larious to give his newly licensed 16 year old daughter a vanity plate named after a cat that drove off of cliffs.] Toonces drove with me up the Turnpike and the Garden State Parkway to New Haven. It drove me DC with my Yale diploma in hand to begin my new life as an adult. It met, and approved of, Billy. It took me to meet Billy's parents and his beloved grandmothers. It lived through glorious victories and ignominious defeats as our tailgate car for UVA football games. It faithfully drove up and down I-95 every weekend the year that Billy and I lived apart. It moved back to DC or, more precisely, Alexandria. It delivered me back to Charlottesville to get married. It picked up our new puppy Charlie. It came full circle when we moved back down to Norfolk. And it brought both of my beautiful children home from the hospital. So yes, I am thankful for Toonces and the amazing 12 years we have spent together. I feel better knowing that it will continue to live a happy and productive life with my sister and brother in law but I will miss it nonetheless...