Three weeks after departure I find myself drinking peppermint tea beside my father and brother, recuperating from an absolutely epic Thanksgiving dinner. Yes, I am home . . . not in Europe. Surprisingly, however, I can say that with absolute contentment.
After three weeks of history, foreign friends, food, airplanes and architecture I was able to make it back for one of the most reliable days of the year: Thanksgiving Day. Thanks to my ability to sleep on Que, I acclimated back to east coast time quite nicely. Matthew, Dad and I kicked the day off by buying the best coconut pie in Wilkes county, and yes, devoured it... at Biscuitville before they brought our breakfast out. We learned that the restaurant actually buys the pies from an eighty-year-old woman which explains its excellence. It was great preparation for the yummy goodness that awaited us in Grandmas kitchen.
There was only five of us gathered: Grandma, Grandma Swaim (great grandma, 100!), Dad, Matthew and myself, making the whole day feel so intimate. After eating the stories began, we recited poems, and shortly switched over to singing old gospel songs with Grandma Swaim. A few words into every song, and she was already singing along, slowly clapping her hands, and left foot tapping down by her mini heater. She must have asked Grandma four times tonight when the man was supposed to come and fix the furnace.
Grandma and I ran to town for a newspaper so we could plot out our black Friday shopping route and it turned out to be an adventure. We went to the nearest grocer and found nothing. The next two gas stations were both dry, also. Last hope: the actual newspaper office downtown. Grandma was certain we would find nothing and deemed the Thanksgiving day print the biggest one of the year. All you could hear when we pulled up was the faint sound of passing cars suddenly broken by a roar of laughter when we saw one paper waiting for us in the dispenser. We road home with perfect grins and Grandma began the hour long venture of clipping coupons.
Matthew was enjoying story time with Grandma Swaim when we walked in the door. A hundred years under ones belt should make you great, but I still am astounded by how unbelievably witty she is. It's absolutely arguable who was having more fun out of the two of them. Both glowing, Matthew was capturing her stories on video, each divided with a sweet smile and silence.
Somehow I switched Matthew seats. He moved to the living room joining Grandma sifting through newspapers, and Dad steadfast asleep on the couch. Grandma Swaim and I played two rounds of clubfist ending in a score of two: zip. Her favor, of course. I've actually never beat her. Yes, I've tried. Only my siblings would understand fully, but to gain empathy... the game ends by announcing that the first person to simply grin or show teeth gets nine pinches. To anyone who has seen a hundred-year-old put on their "serious face"; it's in my top ten mental photo bank of images that instantly make you laugh. God knows I love loosing to her.
After half an hour of Grandma insisting we eat more food she announced her hunger and came back to the kitchen. Horrified at the prospect of having to oblige her by consuming even more food, we silently and unanimously decided to leave. Dad and I were giving Grandma a group hug when we were hushed by an amplified Grandma Swaim's voice with the announcement of Matthew offering a prayer.
Suddenly there was an overwhelming sense of peace, the prayer ended, and Grandma Swaim was crying. The reverence subsided as we exchanged hugs and confirmed plans for tomorrow in our normal voices: loud.
As always, I stepped through Grandma's big blue door and turned around to an absolutely perfect picture: Grandma seeing us out, excited, and Grandma Swaim in her little brown rocking chair, blue cushion, faded peach hair knit, and sweater over her lap. I watched her faded blue eyes follow our dark silhouettes dissolve into the distance. I knew she couldn't see or hear us, but her eyes smiled, and I wished for a second that I could see the world through her eyes. Her world where "beauty is as beauty does."
We made it back just in time.
I'm so thankful for family.
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