What about Thanksgiving?
Aren’t we all asking the same question!
Well, we have a plan: Thanksgiving by the Sidewalk.
Let me explain.
Once upon a time, Thanksgiving meant that everyone would gather in our home on Staten Island. Our children, their spouses and children, extended family, all looked forward to forming a circle around my table, holding hands and getting teary-eyed listening to each of us saying: “I am grateful for….” Then Khalid would carve the turkey, and everyone would dig in, carrying their overloaded plates to the small tables set up in the living room by the windows overlooking the valley. Once we downsized into an apartment in Manhattan, and our son Saqib upsized into a suburban home in New Jersey, we transitioned from hosts to overnight guests. We would rent a car, drive down on Wednesday afternoon, and return on Friday.
Year after year.
Not this year.
We have not visited Saqib since March. Khalid is immune compromised, so unless we can meet up in Central Park, Zoom is the closest we get.
So!
By the summer, we had a plan: our younger son and his family could come over from Brooklyn. A safe number—just us five. We would social-distance by sitting at two tables, keep windows open, only one person at a time in the kitchen, food served on the buffet, masks, the whole routine. I’d make the turkey and trimmings, my daughter-in-law offered to make home-made pie, cranberry, and corn bread. Sounded good.
Until October rolled around and COVID was back.
Now what!
“Don’t take the subway. Rent a zip car,” I told my son. He booked the car.
COVID surged.
I gave him a call. “Feel free to cancel. Don’t feel obligated to come.”
“Thanks mom. We will keep that in mind.”
Excited over Thanksgiving, my daughter-in-law was moving ahead with menu planning, texting me her add-ons, “I will also make sweet potatoes.”
“And I will also make string beans and mashed potatoes,” I texted back.
The sirens started wailing. New York passed the 3% case rate. Schools closed. More sirens.
I called my son. “Let’s set Tuesday evening as our deadline to cancel, because Wednesday I start cooking.”
“Agreed.”
I could tell how much my daughter-in-law had been looking forward to being together. Wish I could give her a hug.
Khalid got the turkey.
COVID got worse. CDC issues travel advisory.
Khalid got tested. Negative.
“Son, the two of us are in the clear. If the three of you can social distance for the next one week, we should be o.k. to meet up.”
And therein was the problem. Our son and daughter-in-law got onto Facetime with us. She explained that when they meet up with friends in the park, despite all efforts, it’s hard to maintain a six-feet distance.
True. I walk with my friends in the park and we are very careful, yet, sometimes we cross the line.
“Mom and Dad, we don’t want to put you at risk. We are thinking that we will drive in Thursday morning, say around 11 a.m. But instead of coming up to the apartment, we meet on the sidewalk and go for a walk. Then we can exchange the food. You give us our share of the turkey and sides, and we will give you the pie, bread, and yams, and then we drive back home and eat in our own apartments. What do you think?”
Aww! They are going to rent a car—all that expense—drive into town, look for parking, maybe pay for parking, and then make a U-turn; all so that mom and dad don’t feel alone.
So that’s the plan. Unless it rains.
There is more. We will zoom in with both our sons, gather around our table, show off the turkey (or whatever is left of it), and go around the screen, each of us saying what we are grateful for, and zoom out. Then Khalid and I will sit down at our table, just the two of us, home alone, grateful to have each other, grateful for our family; and count our blessings over turkey and pie.
Have A Happy Thanksgiving. Be Safe
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