Page 88 of The Cannon
My father rises and lifts his wine glass.
“I’d like to make a toast.”
There’s hear hear’s all around and one whistle from Atticus.
“My family. For us the word is powerful. It means in life’s lottery we found the people we were meant to love.”
Now, not only Dad is getting sentimental, but so is almost everyone else. But Jude, who sits between Sawyer and me, is stoic. He’s simply listening.
“This Thanksgiving there are three new faces. Beauregard, Sawyer and Jude.”
Warm smiles on our faces and my mother’s outstretched hand make their mark. It’s touching watching Grandma Birdie patting the sleeping baby in Brick’s arms. She just loves the little ones. Somehow I think mothers never get over their longing for the baby stage. Must be how totally the child relies on them for life.
“It’s a strange thing,” my father continues, “their being with us feels so right. As if we had been missing them. I hope you all know, whether you like it or not, we consider you family now.”
The deep exhale I hear coming from Jude blows away his control. I see a tear course down his face. Sawyer brings him into an embrace.
“We’re pretty lucky, you and I.”
The boy is too emotional to speak. Thankfully Dad continues.
“Let us raise our glasses to love. We’ve got the king’s share.”
Glasses raise and the moment settles.
“I have a new tradition I want to start. We need to mark the occasion,” my mother says.
Mallory and Charlotte are the first to start clapping. They’re joined by the rest of the table. Even Jude, who doesn’t know how creative my family can be.
“What’s this one?” Brick says.
“I heard it from one of my friends. Her sister in California started it. It’s called Little Thanks.”
The entire table responds with claps and whistles. Sawyer is all in. He reaches over and squeezes my hand.
“Okay, Okay. Let me explain. We go around the table,” she says using her hands to demonstrate. “Each person tells the person to their left something they’re thankful for. Something the person they’re talking to did or said this year.”
“Sounds fun!” Charlotte says.
“I’m not finished. Then that person turns to his or her left and does the same.”
Dad jumps in the telling. “But it has to be a little thing. A nicety. In other words, Little Thanks. No big life-changing events.”
It’s so funny how when a game is explained we all want to talk at once. Put our two cents in.
“Let’s start with Grandpa Davis,” my mother says sitting.
This pleases him to no end. “As the eldest here, it’s only right.” He takes the hand of his bride of sixty plus years. “My sweet lovebird. Which Little Thanks should I pick? You’ve given me so many to choose from.”
Grandma’s lovely smile warms us all.
“Think I’ll go with what you did this morning,” he says sending her a wide smile.
That elicits comments from Atticus and Brick.
“You two still burning up the sheets?”
“Good for you, Grandpa.”
