Turkey Day

“They keep going on about how Jake got rejected by the Co-Op board,” Red sniped a mushroom from the casserole dish.
“I haven’t even put that in the oven,” Holly, Red’s wife, shooed his pinchers away from her celebration, her offering, her mother’s recipes. Red went back to his family in the living room.

“Still enough time to figure out how to chase my blues away”
Red came back into the kitchen. “Well. They’re after me now, ‘You gotta ask for what you want, or they’ll never give you a raise.’ I was hoping to make it to 2PM without drinking,” Holly kept humming her hymn. Red flipped through cabinet doors looking for booze.
She twirled into him using the spatula as a microphone, “Oh, I wanna dance with somebody. I wanna feel the heat with somebody.”
“So, I guess you know where the booze is.”
“Nope. Mom loved Whitney Houston. Yeah, I wanna dance with somebody. With somebody who loves me.”
Red offered a few awkward dance steps then went back to his family in the living room.

Red came back into the kitchen, “Is the turkey almost ready? If they don’t eat something soon-”
“Try this,” Holly spooned up a mouthful of hot potatoes conjured from the buried.
“Damn, babe, your cooking…”
“Almost as good as Mom’s was.”
“Might be the only thing that can quiet these vultures. They’re giving Jake Jr. shit about not going to church. He’s fucking five.”

Dishes, ladles, clinks, napkins, wrist muscles, knives, forks, plastic sippy cups, more wine, refrigerator ice cubes, everybody talk:
“Red, how many miles you got on that Nissan?”
“Any stuffing left?”
“What’s the score?”
“It’s time to get boots on the ground.”
“Can I have desert now?”
“What does that even mean?”
“170,000 miles”

I love you, Mom. The potlucks with Jeanvieve, Michel, Ocean, Kay, Ronald, and Mary-Beth. Freeze Tag. Sparklers. Naps under grown-up talk. You all smoked pot at sunset over the canyon. You told me it was only for adults. I love you, Mom.

Third-helping-nausea, double spills, congealing starch, soiled table cloth, heavy spades, strained chairs, weak earth, everybody talk:
“The fucking Co-Op board would have still rejected me.”
“I’m telling ya, your transmission’s about to go.”
“I do know what I’m talking about.”
“Kids, don’t run in the house.”
“Why do we do this every year if you’re just gonna complain.”
“Who ate the last-”
“Where’s the-”
“I can’t find anything in this house.”
“Well, if you-”
“HEY EVERYBODY!” Holly shouted with no anger. The eyes pointed at her. The ears heard blessing, “I miss my mom.”
They started eating together.