When I was a little girl one of my job’s on Thanksgiving morning was breaking up the bread for the stuffing. The stuffing was my favorite part of the meal. I remember the big bright yellow bowl set before me with the bags of thawed bread. I sat at the kitchen table listening to Grease playing on the TV in the background.’You’re the one that I want, ooh ooh ooh.’ Later the tables would be full of grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Eating to our bellies delight and making memories with laughter. Savoring every bite of stuffing!
Over the years my Thanksgiving traditions changed, depending on where I was and who I was with. In Saipan and Thailand we had big feasts where everyone brought a dish to pass. I always made my mom’s recipe for stuffing, outside the turkey. And it often reminded me of delicious Thanksgivings’ past.
This year as I was standing in the kitchen breaking apart the bread I remembered the big yellow bowl from my childhood. For a moment I felt wistful because Sebastian couldn’t have a seat at the table with me and break the bread while I finished up the pies. And then I heard him coming around the corner in his walker with his dad pushing him from behind.
And I thought, why not? Of course he can help me make the stuffing. So I set him up with a makeshift table in front of him while he stood in his walker and placed the big bowl in front of him. I took his hands and put the bread in as he opened his fingers. He squeezed and let go. I helped him tear the bread and drop it in. He smiled. Then I made him pose for the obligatory photos.
There is nothing Seb can’t do. Sometimes we just need to approach it from a different perspective. And make it happen.