Leftovers

As I sit here with the Boys watching Airplane on AMC, it occurs to me that the leftovers may be the best part of Thanksgiving.

Oh, the day was wonderful, the best day of the year. There was enough food to feed the small army that our family has become.

And if dark, white,and smoked turkey, plus mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes, and dressing, and two kinds of rolls, and famous green bean casserole (back off, haters, my kids love it) weren't enough, you could go back to and get cranberry sauce, relishes, and Watergate salad (not shown).

Save room for pumpkin and pecan pie--a dozen pies for 30 people, which is exactly the right proportion.

But not even the food was as delicious as being surrounded by the love and laughter of four generations. I'm not a good enough photographer to capture the sweetness of the moment when three-year-old Gracie stood on a chair to whisper "I'm going to be a big sister," and her cousin Lily followed with "And I'm going to be a big sister again, too!" Two new babies, expected in the spring, remind us that life goes on.

The after-dinner football game is now limited to the middle generation, the age group that doesn't have bad backs or knee replacements. Even this generation isn't immune to the soporific effects of chilly air and tryptophan.

We'll eat leftovers for the next two days and rehash conversations and impressions. This morning as we finish the second cup of coffee in front of the television we're remembering that, like family, Airplane ages well. 

Surely it's the best day of the year. And don't call me Shirley.