Today is Thanksgiving Day in Canada.
Tradition dictates that families will reunite for a massive dinner of turkey, bread stuffing, cranberry sauce, sweet potatoes, carrots, some kind of jellied salad, mashed potatoes, gravy, brussel sprouts, and pumpkin pie with whipped cream. I know, it sounds as if there's more than enough to feed an army. On Thanksgiving, however, gluttony rules.
The gathering of brothers and sisters, aunts and uncles, and relatives who pop seemingly out of nowhere eat and eat and eat. Then, after dinner, the world seems a little hazier, much like an impressionist painting, à la Claude Monet.
Uncle Jerry unbuckles his belt and lets his head tilt back on the sofa. Edna passes a little gas and hopes no one notices. Pete goes outside for a smoke. Marianne wishes she had never come, but she smiles effervescently whenever someone speaks to her, despite the fact that she has no idea what anyone is saying. Billy and little Suzy run around in circles while screaming for someone to put on a Disney movie.
Before long, everyone drifts back to their homes, and the day is done. Most will forget why they came, and what it is they have to be thankful for, but for a brief moment, sometime during the evening, one or two will look around and be grateful.
And that is enough.
Happy Thanksgiving to all my Canadian readers and friends.
