On Thanksgiving

I give thanks for my Alabama ancestry and that connection that I feel with the land. I give thanks for my grandparents. How I miss them! They took me to "dinner on the ground", to pick messes o' peas on summer mornings, and to call on the sick in bare-walled houses with a single light bulb hanging down. I give thanks for all the time that we just sat together on the porch, sipping Dr. Peppers and rocking while we shelled butterbeans, snapped green beans, and shucked corn.



I give thanks for the rustic beauty of country living that I learned to love as a child.



And I give thanks for the profound luxury of getting to spend time as an adult with my Grandma Somerset: sleeping in the bed next to hers under half a foot of quilts, getting up in the morning and rushing to light the gas heater in the kitchen, then huddling together in front of it; cooking grits, eggs, and bacon while listening to the AM radio on the kitchen table; sitting on the piano bench together and singing from the old Broadman hymnal; listening to her tell me stories of growing up as a child bride under the loving care of her mother-in-law and fishing companion, Ma Set.

For all this and so much more, Father in heaven, I thank Thee!