'Twas the night before Thanksgiving, and all through someone else's house,
My children ran around screaming as I smiled at my spouse.
The smell of Sam's poopy diaper wafted through the air.
With black pens, we signed on the dotted line with great care.
We were buying a new house, one with a yard and tire swing.
I could already see myself hosting some day on Thanksgiving.
On Black Friday, I slinked into the Walmart for packing tape,
When there, in a cart, was clearance turkey napkins and plates.
I bought up the lot with my dreams still in mind
And then tucked them away till it was their moment to shine!
And that was this year. This year I was privileged to host, for the very first time, the Hatchett Family Thanksgiving dinner. I spent days prepping and rearranging to prepare for the feast. Everything had to be perfect, or no one would ever want to come back. On Monday, my mom brought her long folding table and eight chairs. On Tuesday, I cooked up a practice turkey breast in the crock pot and toasted up the bread for the stuffing. On Wednesday, I rearranged the kitchen and living room so the long folding table sat beneath the dining room chandelier, and our small kitchen table was nestled warmly by the fireplace. On Thursday morning, I arose at half past five to butcher and prep my turkeys before lowering them into the crockpot. I combined the extra bones and bits with some carrots, onions, celery, and garlic, and covered it in water in my deepest stock pot to create a homemade broth for the gravy. It simmered for three hours as I set and decorated the table. In my rush, I forgot to snap a picture, but it looked a little something like this:
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You know, real classy.
One by one, cars pulled into the driveway, and relatives from near and less-near arrived with rolls, salads, potatoes, carrots, pies, and bubbly drinks. Every item was absolutely scrumptious, and we gorged ourselves until passing out all over the couches was the only option. After the kitchen was clean and the tables were clear of all the disposable finery, we built a puzzle while telling those same old family stories that never cease to make us laugh. We nibbled on pies and played games. A Jimmy Hendrix documentary serenaded the house while the men talked of cars. Downstairs, a quiet group clicked away on controllers as they battled on an Xbox game. Annie, Sam, and their favorite second cousin played quietly, moving from one room to the next in an intricate dinosaur game.
When we went under contract for this house just one year ago, I couldn't have imagined of a better day in this beautiful home. Thanks, Hatchetts! You made my dreams come true!