Sunday
Dear friend,
November 24, 2004.
It was the night before Thanksgiving and we all gathered to begin the preparation of foods. I sat in desk chair, swinging from right to left as I sang along to Tim McGraw on the television screen. An aunt and uncle fought over what program to watch: Football Vs. Country music. It was a rare case, but for that night the women outnumbered the men. So that was that. The twang in the words complete with a few "yee-haws" here and there were what kept our spirits lifted as we cooked.
I don't know how I knew that the following day would bring such unequivocal change. But standing there, hands covered in a bowl of bread crumbs...I knew that that house would never be the same. As the concert was in its encore stage and my share of the cooking was fulfilled, I decided to delay the night's end for as long as possible.
When I left, I drove. I had no destination. I put Track 5 on repeat and found myself at a multitude of familiar places. Pausing at each one, my mind brought so many memories to life. After my last stop, I got back in my car, searching through every track on that silver and white cd before finding that 5th song once again.
I cried the whole way home. Tomorrow would come way too soon.
November 23, 2005.
It was the night before Thanksgiving. We all gathered to begin the preparation of foods. Again, I got my list of duties which consisted of familiar recipes from years prior. Kenny Chesney crooned country tunes from a small, 13-inch television in the kitchen.
There was no argument to change the channel. Those whose tastes once preferred something other than country have since learned to accept, and in some cases, actually like the genre. When I completed my tasks, I got in my car. I put on that same old track 5 and thought about passing those meaningful places as I did one year before. I opted otherwise, however. Instead, I went straight to my family's home, knowing that when tomorrow came, it would be just fine. We would be just fine. We'd be together...
And you would be there, too.
November 24, 2004.
It was the night before Thanksgiving and we all gathered to begin the preparation of foods. I sat in desk chair, swinging from right to left as I sang along to Tim McGraw on the television screen. An aunt and uncle fought over what program to watch: Football Vs. Country music. It was a rare case, but for that night the women outnumbered the men. So that was that. The twang in the words complete with a few "yee-haws" here and there were what kept our spirits lifted as we cooked.
I don't know how I knew that the following day would bring such unequivocal change. But standing there, hands covered in a bowl of bread crumbs...I knew that that house would never be the same. As the concert was in its encore stage and my share of the cooking was fulfilled, I decided to delay the night's end for as long as possible.
When I left, I drove. I had no destination. I put Track 5 on repeat and found myself at a multitude of familiar places. Pausing at each one, my mind brought so many memories to life. After my last stop, I got back in my car, searching through every track on that silver and white cd before finding that 5th song once again.
I cried the whole way home. Tomorrow would come way too soon.
November 23, 2005.
It was the night before Thanksgiving. We all gathered to begin the preparation of foods. Again, I got my list of duties which consisted of familiar recipes from years prior. Kenny Chesney crooned country tunes from a small, 13-inch television in the kitchen.
There was no argument to change the channel. Those whose tastes once preferred something other than country have since learned to accept, and in some cases, actually like the genre. When I completed my tasks, I got in my car. I put on that same old track 5 and thought about passing those meaningful places as I did one year before. I opted otherwise, however. Instead, I went straight to my family's home, knowing that when tomorrow came, it would be just fine. We would be just fine. We'd be together...
And you would be there, too.