I admit, this is a little sappier (and shorter) than the running of the birds. But, come on, it’s a holiday to be sappy. And to eat. So, let’s get to the food!

“Are you sure, Jim?”

“Laura, we’ve been over this a million times. Today. That’s a million times just today.”

“Ha ha,” she mocked as she put on the oven mitts and pulled the two trays of crisp white bread bits and set them on a cooling rack on the kitchen island. She broke two eggs into a bowl and started to whisk. “Seriously, Jim, aren’t we putting a lot of… pressure on them? I mean, we could still make dinner.”

“We literally couldn’t,” he said handing her the bag of dried stuffing bread cubes which she added to the bowl with the eggs and then added a cup and a half of milk. “Besides,” Jim added, “this’ll be fun! Beyond the fact that Taylor and Jenny are bringing the bird–”

“And gravy! Did you check that they remembered the gravy before they left San Francisco?” Laura interrupted as she took giblets out of a separate bowl of milk and began dicing them.

“…Beyond the fact that Taylor and Jenny are bringing the bird, we don’t know what else we’re going to have. Taylor, Laurie, and Ryan worked it out who was bringing what among themselves. We promised not to meddle,” he put extra emphasis on that word, “or offer unsolicited advice.”

“Jim,” she stopped chopping and looked at him seriously, “This might be a terrible Thanksgiving.”

Jim laughed at his wife. “And you might be a control freak, dear.” He came around and kissed her on the forehead.

…

“The gravy! We forgot the gravy!” Taylor said as Jenny piloted their Tesla Model X north across the Golden Gate bridge.

“In the back to the left, err, driver-side of the bird,” Jenny said calmly.

“How do you know? I know we forgot it. We can turn off at the vista point…”

“Taylor, you asked me a dozen times already. If you crane your neck you can probably see the Tupperware. You don’t think your parents will flip that we used that blackened creole rub, do you?”

“No,” Taylor craned his neck to peer into the back, saw the gravy, then straightened up. “Well… maybe. But they’ll like it. Dad will. It’ll push mom out of her comfort zone.”

“Is that a good thing on Thanksgiving?”

“Sure! Laurie and Ryan are on board. Besides, blackened turkey, red beans and rice, and pecan pie won’t seem nearly as strange as Laurie and Lisa’s dishes…”

…

“How’s it going over there, Lis?” Laurie asked as she drained her pot into the stainless steel sink.

“Good,” Lisa replied as she pulled the steamer basket off the boiling pan of water. “This is the last batch of the steamed mahimahi laulau.”

“You’re sure that’ll travel?”

I’m loading it into the Cambro where these little ti leaf wrapped darlings will finish steaming. In fact, once you get those Okinawan sweet potatoes done we’ll put them in with the mahimahi.”

“I loaded the bottom of the Cambro with the pineapple chutney and honeyed yogurt pumpkin pie with pistachio-coconut streusel and the chill slabs.”

“Oh my god, are you sure I can’t sample that before we go?”

“Heh, you’ll wait like everyone,” Laurie smiled as she smashed the purple sweet potatoes. “Aren’t you glad we closed the restaurant now?”

Lisa threw a crumpled wad of ti leaf at Laurie. “You were right, sweetie,” she said snapping closed the top of the brown wheeled Cambro. “I’ll bring the van around.”

…

“Hey Bro, where are you guys at?” Ryan asked as gingerly touched the bread pan to tell if it was cool enough to pack. “Navato? Cool, cool… Oh, I’m packing my monkey bread. I’ve got like twenty minutes left on my chipotle and bacon mac and cheese and then I’m gonna head over to mom and dad’s.”

Ryan’s roommate came into the kitchen with a backpack slung over his shoulder. “Coming home tonight?” he mouthed to Ryan. Ryan shrugged indeterminately then decided and shook his head, no. His roommate nodded and mouthed “See you Sunday,” fist-bumped Ryan and then left.

“I’m just worried that I’m not making enough,” he spoke into the phone. “I mean you guys made that New Orleans feast and, Jesus, it sounds like Lisa and Laurie are doing everything Hawaiian except bringing lava… Yeah, I know they have the restaurant… Yeah, school’s good,” he looked over at the half-full bottle of Fireball cinnamon whiskey. “Yeah, one of my housemates left Tuesday and the other just left.

“Yeah, I can pick up 12-pack on my way over. IPA? Seasonal? Yeah, I’ll surprise you. Okay, I’ll see you guys there.”

…

Jim was glad for the crowd around the oval table crowded to the point of bursting with food, dishes, and silverware. Even with the leaf expanding the table they still had to sit so that no one was at the “head” of the table. That was okay with him.

The walls of the dining room rang with the conversations of the seven people smiling and laughing. He cleared his throat loud enough to be heard over the din and everyone quieted down and turned their attention to him. He motioned to Laurie who stood and picked up her glass of wine.

“I’m going to make Jim say grace in a sec, but I wanted to first say how happy I am to have you all here. And I wanted to thank you for the new ulcer I have because of this meal.” Her kids laughed; their significant others laughed nervously. “Jim will attest that, Yes, I’m not yet completely comfortable ceding control of Thanksgiving cooking. But seeing so many dishes I wouldn’t have even thought of… I couldn’t be happier. I made Nana’s stuffing,” she gestured to the steaming bowl of stuffing, “but that’s all of our traditional dishes we have here. Everything else is testament to this being a meal where we celebrate everything you brought with your life experiences outside this house. Thank you all. And, Jim, make grace quick because this all looks amazing.”

She sat down. Jim said a heartfelt and grateful grace, and then they ate an amazing, unconventional Thanksgiving.