Those Eggs

I was standing over my kitchen sink peeling eggs when a memory slapped me in the face. My mom did nearly everything for a holiday dinner on her own, but she usually delegated the eggs to my dad.

She would put the dozen (or more, depending on who was going to be at dinner) eggs in the biggest pot she had and boil them.  Then she’d cool them down and pass them off to Dad.

Dad would sit in his recliner with his feet on his footstool watching tv, probably Oak Island or Forrest Gump would be safe guesses.  He’d lay out some old newspaper on his lap and begin peeling the eggs.

Mom meanwhile would be doing something else in the kitchen.  Most likely making a pie because it seemed like the pie to person ratio was quite elevated – but who’s asking anyway?

Eventually the pot of eggs would be chauffeured back to the kitchen, mostly begrudgingly by me.  Then, after Mom would rinse the eggs off and begin to halve them would come what became routine.

“Ronal Dee!”  An egg was missing.  At least one egg was missing.

Dad would laugh coyly, trying to pretend he hadn’t taken an egg from the pile and she’d simply miscounted.

The thing was Mom tried to make her deviled eggs the night before a holiday dinner, but they’d mysteriously be presented on the table at dinner several short.  Dad was known for sneaking into the fridge late at night and stealing eggs.

This year was the first Thanksgiving without both of my parents here and it was oddly okay.  I don’t know if I thought I was going to be carrying around a heavy proverbial brick or what, but it was okay.  More than okay I think.  I was excited to have my brother home and our close friends whom we consider family join us for dinner and card games.

I stepped up and said about a month or so ago that I wanted to have Thanksgiving at my house.  I knew it would be difficult between managing all the things that go into a Thanksgiving spread and then the emotions of this new season.  But I’m so grateful I followed through with my gut and what I felt convicted to do for this holiday.  My main reason for hosting was I felt it was time to make happy memories again in this house and feel like that goal was satisfied.

I’ll be the first to admit that my eggs are nowhere near as great as my Mom’s was but then again, she had many many more years of perfecting them than my one measly attempt.

Do you have any favorite holiday memories with your friends and family?

 

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