Grandma's recipe

"Nice soft cuts on those potatoes, Chris," grandma's voice is soothing. With knife in hand, I concentrate tenderly with each cut. Calamity and excitement echo through the living room and cheers reverberated into the kitchen. "What is the score?" I yell out from the table. Uncle Chuck and my father are focused on their Chicago Bears, in hopes that they bring a win home to their fans on Thanksgiving Day. Asleep on the lazy boy recliner, grandpa and his dog Ginger snoring in perfect unisom. "How are those potatoes?" Again, my grandma's voice soothes my soul as I look up to her beautiful smile.

My grandma was from Swedish descent and was an absolute culinary genius. And on November 24th, it was her time to shine. She would prepare her starter ingredients the night before and then awake at precisely 4 in the morning on Thanksgiving day. I always stayed the day and night before the big holiday, so I can cherish every moment of Grandma's Thanksgiving recipe. Unfortunately, 4 in the morning was extremely early for myself. I chose to sleep until around eightish because I knew the smells would alert my taste buds.

I spring out of the guest room bed and quickly dash to the kitchen. Grandma interrupts me with a mug of hot chocolate, topped with whip cream, caramel drizzle, and a cherry on the top. She gives me a kiss on the forehead as she hands over her handcrafted masterpiece. I sip the first sip, careful not to dip my nose into the yumminess. The mix of cold and hot is comforting.

My eyes begin to analyze the kitchen to notice Ginger is eating some cooked chicken liver mixed with eggs. Ginger has been in our family for over 10 years now. I remember when Grandma and I went to pick her up as a surprise for grandpa when we found out he was diagnosed with lung cancer. The plan was for grandpa to just fall in love with Ginger, immediately. Let me tell you, the smile and excitement that was displayed from my grandpa after a few minutes with Ginger, those minutes showed hope. Arguably, without Ginger and family and friends showering him with love and positivity, grandpa may not have lived to enjoy this Thanksgiving feast.

From the distance and down the hall, the sound of a bedroom door, creaks open. Immediately Ginger sprints to the sound. "Grandpa is up," grandma mentions as she is whipping egg whites for her homemade lemon meringue and key lime pies.

I noticed that the television is not on and decide to grab the remote control from the living room and turn on the Macy's Day parade. With the sound blasting, grandma drops her whisk out of excitement. "I forgot this was on, " grandma claimed. I knew she appreciated the parade to be on at this very moment because when everyone arrives, football and the Chicago Bears do take over. This was a subtle memory for her and I to cherish. Although extremely busy with the feast, grandma chose to savor watching an inflatable Snoopy, Alf, Hanna Barbara cartoon characters, and of course the real, Mr. and Mrs. Clause to acknowledge Christmas being right around the corner.

After the parade, grandma gets back to cooking her masterpiece. I again ask if she needed help and she responded with, "not right now, but thank you!" Somehow, grandpa and Ginger snuck outside and grandpa was sitting comfortably in his hand made rocking chair that he created during his time of cancer. Nobody in our family knew that Grandpa knew wood work. One day, he was growing irritated by not being able to do much with his diagnosed so he decided to go to Hone Depot and upon his return, he began wood work. His crafts were inspiring and he chose to never sell his creations. Instead, he chose to give to people in need and return the favor that Christ gave to him in defeating cancer.

I open the front door and walk outside. Ginger greets me with heavy panting and a side nudge basically demanding me to scratch her backside. Grandpa notices Ginger's escapades and let's out a below of laughter as I reach down to scratch her. "It is beautiful weather this morning, almost fishing weather." I jokingly tease knowing this is perfect fishing weather. Grandpa is staring out in the open with a tooth pick in hand. You can tell my words of fishing got him pondering whether to sneak out to the lake or not. I take a seat on the porch swing that was also created by my grandpa but he gifted to grandma.

As both small talk and personal conversations are shared, the neighbors of my grandparents, Mr. Bob and Mrs. Peggy interrupt with a friendly Happy Thanksgiving. Grandpa and I both approach the metal fence that separates the two properties. Mrs. Peggy hands over a casserole dish and mentions that it is green beans casserole. I say thank you, and as grandpa continues their conversation, I turn to take the potluck meal inside to add to the feast

"Here you go Grandma," as I place the dish onto the table. Grandma hesitates before unveiling Peggy's dish. "Oh how nice of her to make green beans casserole," grandma begins to fold the foil back over the dish. "Quickly place this in the freezer, we will throw it away later." The dish is stuffed into my chest like Walter Payton receiving a handoff. Just as I walk into the carport and open the deep freezer, " Hey hey hey!!!" I can hear the echos of my Uncle Donnie and Aunt Candy, they were the fun aunt and uncle. The dish falls out of my hands and into a bag of frozen vegetables. I slam the freezer shut and sprint towards the front door entrance to try and sneak up on my Uncle Donnie.

With precision and stealth, I know this is the year I can sneak up on him. My Uncle Donnie is a retired Air Force Special Ops, I do not know much or hardly anything about him but I know he was one cool uncle. I tap Aunt Candy on the shoulder to get her attention as my finger is motioning for her to be quiet. I grab both her shoulders and duck behind her back as she walks inside. " We're is everyone?" Donnie asks as he hands over a bouquet of flowers to grandma. When the flowers are secured in Grandma's hands and out of harm, I leap into action. "I am right herrrreerr..." my words and sentence structure is damaged due to a quick take down followed by a chokehold and then myself tapping.

"Damn, you are getting big cousin!" excited emotions release from my uncle Donnie as he helps me to my feet. With laughter and love in the air, hugs and greetings are beginning to be shared.

Suddenly, a musical interlude erupts, followed by the famous John Madden and Frank Gifford mentioning that it is time for Thanksgiving Day football. Are greetings are halted as the seats are taken and eyes are glued onto the start of football. The door opens again, followed by a "woof." It is Uncle Chuck, Aunt Ruth, and my cousin Shannon. "What is he doing here?" my grandpa demands answers as he points at Brownie, my Uncles dog. Now, there is nothing wrong with Brownie, except he drools, sheds horribly, and is always creating mischief. Still, no member of the family, human or animal should be alone on Thanksgiving.

Grandma mentions for grandpa to lighten up or he will be sent to his room with no dinner. My grandparents share an intimate smooch with one another, acknowledging their 50+ years of marriage. Ginger and Brownie begin chasing one another up and down the hallway, the family is scattered inside and outside of the house, and the TV is revving up for the anticipation of "Da Bears!!!"

Still, there is one missing ingredient! Not everyone's main ingredient but my absolute favorite ingredient. The phone rings and I go to answer it, "don't answer the phone, it could be a bill collector. Who interrupts Thanksgiving?" as questions are asked that I do not know the answers to. Still, I am missing my favorite ingredient. I pick up the phone and say "Hello." The voice on the other end is exactly the ingredient that I was anticipating. "Hey sport, we are only 10-15 mins away!" I could not hold it in "DAD!!! I was wondering when you were going to show," as my loudness calms the room.

I hang the phone up and all of the families eyes are fixated, solely onto myself. "That was dad, he said he is only 10-15 mins away!" My excitement must have engaged some serious emotions because grandma stopped Cooking, grandpa walked outside, and my entire families mood changed. Out of excitement, I decide to walk outside and wait for my father to arrive. Time goes by and I begin to wonder how long 10-15 minutes is.

From the side of the house, grandpa decides to join me in waiting. "Were you sure that was your father on the phone?" Grandpa asks. I lower my head to the ground... He is not coming, is he?" My grandpa's hands reached out and pulled me in and cradled me tightly. "Your father..." just as my grandpa was talking, he paused and loosened his grip. I lean back to create space from my grandpa and notice tears falling from his face as he is staring forward.

My head jerks, "pops, as I spring to my feet and run to greet him. A giant leap into my father's knelt, open arms acknowledges my happiness. As my father holds me tightly into the air, I can hear footsteps approaching. With tears in all three of our eyes, my grandpa learns to forgive my father because I have forgiven my father. Yeah he left me, but his presence would give me the perfect ingredient to my families Thanksgiving dinner.

The door opens and the entire family walks outside with greetings of acceptance and forgiveness. After the warm embrace, everyone navigates their way back inside the house, all except for my father and I. "We will be inside to join you all in a few," my father mentions. The rocking chair is getting lots of use today, as my father sits with me in his arms. "Man, you are getting heavy," pops brags. As he is looking me in my eyes, the words from his mouth are the impossible mystery ingredient that is beyond the best ingredient. This ingredient molds the recipe and can evolve into something better. "I am sorry for leaving you!!!" as tears fall from his face. With a glare, I reach my hand up and wipe his tears. All a 12 year old boy, yearning for his father can say is, "It is ok dad!!!".

We bond over tears, hugs, laughter, and forgiveness. As we are accidentally ignoring the Thanksgiving holiday, grandma opens the door and mentions that she could use my help with cutting the potatoes and pops needs to carve the turkey. We wipe one another tears and sprint inside. I take a seat at the kitchen table and grandma hands me a bowl of piping hot potatoes, a knife, and a cutting board. As I sit, my eyes wander. Grandpa and my father are embracing an ever so tight hug, that is soon joined by both of his brothers.

The turkey is now carved, all of the guys are sitting in the living room embracing the NFL countdown. Grandpa and Ginger are passed out in his lazy boy recliner, and the women are enjoying some front porch sitting. My grandma is finishing in the kitchen, the only thing she is waiting for is the potato's. "Nice smooth cuts Chris!!!" I look up at my grandma and realize the potato's are her last missing ingredient. "Sorry grandma, I will hurry." Calmly grandma approaches me and says, "Do not rush, cherish the ingredient for it can create a recipe that will never be forgotten."