and for every single one of those, with the exception of one, I have had a roast turkey and all the fixings, no matter what; no matter if there was no money to buy anything extra for the rest of the week, or if my mother became a vegetarian.
She put a turkey and stuffing and creamed pearl onions and string beans with butter and mashed potatoes and mashed butternut squash and cranberry sauce cooked from the bag and pies on the table. The year there was no turkey dinner, there was an ice storm that took all the wires down. We popped corn and roasted vienna sausages over a fire and slept in the living room.
This is the first year my mother hasn’t had a house to make Thanksgiving in. My sister planned to meet in a restaurant, but it turns out my mom won’t be well enough.
I have my apron on at the moment. I bought my tiny turkey yesterday for my husband and Ferdinand to eat while I’m at work, cooking. No matter what I’m going to roast it.