Thanksgiving 2020

Photo by Mel Poole on Unsplash

I slowly slid out from the blankets and into my fuzzy slippers. I sat still on the edge of the bed because Gene’s snoring had stopped snoring. He rolled over and then returned to a quieter rhythm. It’s still dark as midnight, but that turkey won’t bake itself. I steadied myself with the nightstand and eased off the bed. Gene didn’t flinch. One of the few times I’ve managed to get out of bed without waking him. I tiptoed out the bedroom door, gently pulling it shut behind me.

Dim light from the kitchen spilled down the hallway. I must have forgotten to turn that out last night before bed. As I got closer, I heard running water quickened my steps. Hope I didn’t leave the water running, too.

Stepped into the doorway to see Paul washing up one of Camille’s bottles. He paused for a moment. I stepped back into the darkness and away from the doorway. Don’t want him to think I’m spying on him. I am, but he doesn’t need to know that. I worry about him.

After he didn’t say anything or shut the water off, I peeked around the doorframe again. Paul was holding on to the edge of the sink and pinching the bridge of his nose. He’s missing Twila. My baby is heartbroken.

Thanksgiving Turkey

Photo by Charles Deluvio on Unsplash

My son’s family won’t be visiting this Thanksgiving. So rather than spend it alone, I’m trying out the new virtual buffet. They promised an enjoyable family dinner even if you are the only one physically present. The only requirement – wearing their patented, virtual reality glasses.

The self-driving bus pulled into the parking lot of Mama’s Buffet, my city’s version of the virtual buffet. I and a handful of other single, older adults filed off of the bus and into the white building with pink trim. As I waited in line, the scent of roasted turkey and stuffing made my stomach growl. I watched each person in front of me accept their VR glasses and led off to separate dining pods.