Parsley, Sage, Turkey and Piano?

The Best Bits of Thanksgiving Weekend

It’s Thanksgiving weekend, and I’ve been entertaining a bunch of teenagers off and on for days. Okay. Not really. I’ve been enjoying the comings and goings of Max, Tory and their friends. The house is alive, noisy and entertaining, very entertaining. 

Max, home from college, has been in and out with his good buddy Colin. The young men are pretty quiet, hanging out, talking, watching TV and eating, always eating. I make a huge turkey dinner every year and we always have plenty of leftovers. Last evening, Colin, all 6’5” of him, finished up the shrimp cocktail, while Max prepared two huge turkey, stuffing, and gravy sandwiches on toast for them to eat. And I noticed he packed a couple of more sandwiches in a cooler for their road trip later that evening. Emma, Max’s girlfriend, she of the long blonde hair and smiling blue eyes, whirled through in a blast of cold air on her way somewhere.

Tory and her friends have hung out here off and on all weekend; they’re here right now playing pool, listening to music and talking loudly, really loudly. A small group of teens can sound like a party with very little effort on their part. They play pool and laugh, watch movies and screech, play their Ipods and yell over top of it all. They run up and down the stairs, push and shove and insult each other, and all the while the music is playing, always present, a sound background to their lives. 

The best part, the absolutely best part of the teens being here over the extended weekend has been the sound of the piano. One of Tory’s friends, Gabe, played the piano in our parlor until I thought the piano was going to dance down the hallway with joy. The first crashing chords sounded as I lay watching TV on the family room couch late in the evening. The music was bold and big and it filled the house, instantly. As I picked my startled self off the floor, a grin split my face. The cats, huge eyed and scared, took off for the third floor to hide. 

Gabe played some classical, then segued into popular. He played like he meant it; with passion and joy and all the good stuff. It was terrific. As suddenly as it began, it stopped. The front door opened and closed and the house was silent, like the calm after a storm.

Yes, a piano can dance with joy

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