It’s Sunday and the family that traveled over the river and through the woods to visit “Grandma’s house” is back home and there’s a Ziploc bag in my fridge screaming at me to be creative with its contents: one dried out turkey leg, part of a wing and bits and pieces of light and dark meat. I gave most of the turkey, all the gravy, dressing, cranberry sauce, rolls, mashed potatoes and sweet potatoes away in take home goody boxes for all my guests, but kept sort of a martyr bag of leftovers for us.Why’d I do that? Why didn’t I just get rid of all of it? I asked Nelly (my inner child).
“So, are you the one who decided to keep some of the turkey when I was making up the “to go” boxes?”
“Why’d you do that?”
“Because I like the drumstick and I didn’t get to have one on Thanksgiving because you said the real kids would want them and then they didn’t even take one but Pa Pa Gary ate one.”
“So, when you saw the one left you put it in the bag to keep.”