"Remember how we use to be able to sit outside on a cool fall morning and still be wearing shorts and t-shirts? Now we have to wear long pants and maybe a light jacket." He laughs a little and takes a sip of his coffee and looks out across the yard.
"It is a beautiful morning isn't it" he answers. The sun is just rising above the horizon, a light mist still in the air that is slowly burning off. The birds are just now coming awake and crowding around the bird feeder, the sparrows chirping and the bluejays squawking all fighting for a spot.
With everything that the morning brings including the constant conversation coming from the chair beside him, he takes another sip and smiles, knowing that this is the way it's supposed to be for this is the way it has been for so many years. Soon he will get up and water the plants and clean up a little bit from whatever the night wind has blown in. Usually, it's the cushions from the chairs that are laying on the ground and need to be picked up fluffed and placed back, and then he sweeps the leaves off the porch, and maybe pick up one of the smaller potted plants. And, of course, whatever else she tells him to do. But he doesn't mind. He knows she's not able to do those little things anymore. After he's finished, they will have their second cup of coffee and finish talking about whatever she's been telling him, which depending on what's been on the news or what has happened on the Kardashians he knows he will hear all about it.
After an hour or so has passed, it's decided that it's time to get started on today's meal. Today is a special time of year and she always enjoyed making the dinner for it. Especially when the whole family would come over. What a production that was and he wasn't allowed just to sit around, no sir. He's had to help. Not only did he have to make sure the yard was mowed, cleaned and perfect, he had to help get the special dishes down form the cupboard, help prepare some of the dishes, help clean up after the recipes were made and then and only then, was he allowed, or better yet ordered, to leave the kitchen so she could cook the meal.
And even now that the kids are grown and have families of their own and don't live close enough to visit every year, and the grandkids are off to college or wherever they may be doing their own thing, the process hasn't changed. The meal may not be as big but the system that has been in place for so long is still in place and will not be deviated from. Which is just fine with him. He hates change.
And just like so many years before, he takes down the dishes, sets the table with the silverware just so, places the wine glasses and opens their favorite bottle of wine pouring one glass for each of them to drink while dinner cooks all the while smelling the wonderful flavors floating through the air because he knows that the recipes that have been handed down from mother to daughter have been followed to a T. He looks at the table as he picks up his glass while admiring his work. Even if it is just for the two of them, he thinks the table looks very nice and cozy. It will need to meet her approval of course, but he's sure it will.
They sit on the couch drinking their one glass of wine together slowly as diner finishes cooking. Theres a football game on TV, and she doesn't mind that as long as he keeps the volume low enough so they can talk and reminisce all of the past holiday dinners. Laughing about the time they tried to fry a turkey and almost burnt the house down. Or when their daughter in-law insisted on cooking dinner one year and forgot to turn the oven on, which my wife knew but didn't say anything, so, in her words, "she didn't interfere and the girl can learn a lesson." We had frozen pizzas that night with store bought ice cream for dessert. In some ways that was the most relaxing holiday dinner even if it wasn't traditional.
She always knows when dinner is ready. She doesn't need a timer or a bell to inform her that everything was cooked to perfection, as it was every time. She just knew. After placing everything on the table and filling the glasses with more wine, he insists, they sit down. Taking each other's hands, he lifts hers and brings them to his lips, gently kissing them. They close their eyes and she says a prayer of thanks to their God for all of their family, all their blessings, and their life together. Then it's time to eat and eat they do. A little of this and a little of that until stuffing themselves, not even saving room for the desert they knew they would eat but they also knew they shouldn't have. Then they would say thanks again to each other this time for all of their hard work and all of the years they have given each other.
After dinner she insists on going for a walk. Not only so he doesn't sit on the couch and fall asleep, snoring so loud, as she says, that you would think the God of thunder was coming through the front door, but also to get away from the noise of the family. When they used to come that is. She mostly loves to see the changing of the trees. That has always been her favorite thing about fall, seeing all of the different colors. They leave the dishes on the table, grab their jackets thinking again how just a few years ago they wouldn't have needed them. They walk for a while not always talking but always enjoying each other's company until the sun started going down and the air turned chillier. He opens the door as they get back home and hears the phone ringing and runs to get it. It's one of the grandkids saying hello and just checking on how things were and wishing a happy day. The conversation doesn't take long; they never do with grandkids.
But now it's just the two of them and the cleaning up didn't take very long so he insisted on it being his job and that she just relax. After he was finished, he was allowed to have another glass of wine or a beer, whichever was his choice. He chose a beer tonight and sat down in his chair next to hers, setting his glass down next to her half full wine glass. The living room is quiet now, the kitchen dark. The conversation no longer there. Being nothing more than remembrances. Echoes of the past.
Picking up her picture from the end table he looks at her, caressing the face in the photo just like he would if she was here. Kissing the picture, he places it back down and picks up his beer and clinks her glass. "I've loved you forever, I'll love you for always, forever and always my love you will be. Happy Thanksgiving dear."
Taking a drink from his beer, he looks at her empty chair, leaning back in his, he closes his eyes and goes to meet her in his dreams as he has for so many nights before.
With a smile.
