Stuffing I think of Mom.
I try to copy hers, but she kept the recipe in
Her head, so I do my best.
And as I set out my dinnerware I
Picture the dining room back home.
We set up extra tables to
Accommodate our big farm family.
They stretched all the way into the front room.
I can smell the pies baking.
I can see Dad walking into the warm kitchen after
Milking the cows in the cold barn.
Remembering makes me cry.
Even though I look forward to my family joining
Me, something inside my heart always draws
Me back home, especially at Thanksgiving.
Now I wonder.
Do you suppose as Mom was preparing the
Stuffing and arranging the tables that she was
Also a swirl of emotions?
Do you suppose that she was reminiscing?
Do you suppose that she felt homesick too?