Some things come back to haunt me or maybe I should say they continue to rise to the occasion. Like the Thanksgiving dinner I had yesterday. Now I know that Thanksgiving dinner will soon be long gone, but in our house, leftovers stay forever.
Thanks to our freezer, I will enjoy that meal over and over. It’s almost like the gift that keeps on giving. Little plastic bags filled with fragmented turkey carcass, wads of stuffing, and moldering peas. Some things will last longer than others, like the candied sweet potatoes. I don’t know why I don’t like sweet potatoes. Candied sweet potatoes were my mother’s favorite; she wouldn’t let me leave the dinner table until I ate them all. Or maybe I don’t like them because of what they look like.
It’s hard to forget past Thanksgivings, especially yesterday’s. I can still feel the nostalgia growing, swelling, like old stuffing wallowing in greasy gravy. Even the family dog remembers that meal – from one end of the yard to the other.
And I can still hear the sentiments expressed and comments about…
The dressing: “This stuffing is going to need all the gravy I can throw at it. You say it’s bread stuffing. How long did you cook it? All day? I think I just cracked a tooth.”
The gravy: “Gravy? That’s really gravy? Are you sure? I swear I saw something move. On its own… Look! It’s coming up for air.”
“This gravy is so watery I could drink it with a straw. Oh wait! I forgot about the chunks. I think that one is waving at me.”
The turkey: “The meat on this turkey leg is so tough, it’s as if this turkey chased camels in the Sahara.”
“Did this turkey have its rabies shot? You forgot to remove its microchip!”
“Is that the turkey’s head? What’s it doing down there? Is this turkey swaybacked?”
The meal: “I wish these hiccups would go away. I think I’m going to have to Heimlich myself.”
“I feel like a myopic snake that swallowed a watermelon.”
“It’s hard to focus on chewing with so many choking sounds around me.”
I end up eating old turkey parts every day of the first week following Thanksgiving. As for the gravy and the stuffing, there’s only so much grease my gall bladder can take. I will have flatulence every day. Thankfully, the leftovers will eventually be all gone and so will my indigestion.
So much for anticipating the future by reliving the repast.