14
Natalie
Halloween has never been my favorite holiday.
Dressing up as someone you aren’t?Making girls feel almost forced into wearing inappropriate outfits for attention?An insane melee of candy.It feels like a holiday that naturally fosters all the wrong things—fear, greed, and utter abandonment of decency.
I try to focus on the good parts of it, of course.
We always dressed up in themed costumes.We trick-or-treated with family and friends.We decorated with pumpkins, cute little cartoon-esque ghouls and ghosts, and we talked about family members who had left this earth, a la the Dia de los Muertos.That’s at least a tradition I can get behind.
But Thanksgiving?Other than Christmas, and maybe Easter, and okay, also Valentine’s Day, it’s my very favorite.Honestly, it may be tied with Easter and Valentine’s.I have to love celebrations of our Savior’s birth, and I have to celebrate the day of love, but Iadorethe idea of giving thanks.
For one, it helps us remember all our blessings.
Counting all my blessings has always been one of the best ways for me to calm down when things are hard.If I name them one at a time, I always wind up with more things than I thought I would.My children are at the top.A God who loves me.And then, there are inevitably lots of other material blessings I forget about when I’m wallowing in failures or my own selfishness.
Thanksgiving has always been something I really look forward to.
After my Halloween party plan kind of bombed from the perspective of increasing fall revenue, I was delighted that my Thanksgiving idea actually landed us a dozen bookings—our little estate hotel is full for the first time since August, and every single guest is from America.
And they all paid for a Thanksgiving dinner.
The last few weeks have been slow, and it’s given me and Sam lots of time to work on the cottage remodel, which is almost done, and to do another little show over in Waterford.We’ve been having almost too much fun.But now, now that Thanksgiving’s here, I’m a little panicked.For everyone in Ireland, it’s just another day.But for our American families, this celebration’s a big deal.
“I’m so sorry, ma’am.”Ma’am really sounds more like ‘mum’ coming from Mrs.Murphy.“If I just take some fever reducers, I bet I’ll be able to?—”
I shake my head and wave her off.“No way, Mrs.Murphy.If you have a cold, or worse, the flu, you could get everyone sick.And you deserve to be resting when you feel lousy.”I point.“I’m sure we can handle things.”
She winces.“Unfortunately, it’s not only me.”
I was worried about that.“Your daughter too?”
She nods tightly.“I think maybe I picked it up from her.”
I suppress a groan.“Well, both of you should just focus on feeling better soon.”
Nine rooms full of guests.I’m running the numbers in my head.Twenty-three guests paid for a Thanksgiving dinner, and now I’m making it for them all myself, more or less.The second Mrs.Murphy is back in her car and driving away, I’m dialing Sam.
“What’s wrong?”I don’t usually call her in the early morning like this.
“Mrs.Murphy’s sick.”
Sam groans.“You’re kidding.”
“It gets worse.Her daughter is, too.”
“Oh, boy,” Sam says.“I would come help, but eight of the guests booked a ride this morning, and I’m grouting the floors right now.I can’t really stop until I’m done, and?—”
“No, it’s fine.”Or at least, it will be fine, somehow.“All of that is great news.I just wanted you to know.”
First things first, I throw together a pretty lame breakfast for the guests who are waking up and beginning to trickle into the dining room.“What time did you say Thanksgiving dinner would be?”The mother of two small children yawns.“Sorry.”She half-smiles.“Your room was very nice, but kids.”She shakes her head.“They never sleep well in a strange place.”
“I’m sorry to hear it was a long night.”I try my hardest not to cringe when I say, “Thanksgiving dinner will be at four p.m.”Which is only eight hours away and shrinking.Oh, boy.
The moment I’ve gotten the breakfast spread set up, I dash back into the kitchen to see what things we have and what things we still need.I was planning to take a leisurely trip into town to buy things while Mrs.Murphy and her very competent daughter started to put all the food together.Instead, half an hour later, I’m fielding calls from the kids while I mix up the bread dough for rolls.
“No, I left the form on the counter, near the back door,” I say.“I told you I signed it.”
