Easter tends to be a…well…competitive holiday for my family. There is the annual egg hunt which usually ends in a physical battle between grown adults tackling one another for that last hidden egg. The cousins are all grown up now, but we still love trash talking during the weeks leading up to the event, all while training by for the big day by running circles around the yard and scoping out the possible hiding spots. One year, when I discovered the goldmine of eggs hidden in the trees along the property line, I won, and thus received the coveted bragging rights for the rest of the year. The next year, I lost miserably, but we won’t discuss that. 😉
This year was different. Easter Day started out with my brother cuing Google to play “loud noises” to wake everyone up. I ran downstairs in my pajamas to find my nephew buried under a blanket on the couch and my brother just about to either jump on him or throw cold water in his face; neither of which I would want to experience, so I quickly escaped to the kitchen. My mother was making coffee and one of the two dogs was already outside basking in the sun on the patio, waiting for us to join her. We drank our coffee on the patio as we all sat together and predicted when this plague would end.
The rest of the day went as planned, and then the much-anticipated oven timer went off, alerting us that the turkey was done. After skipping lunch in anticipation of a large dinner, I was salivating. That’s when we realized it… the turkey was still COLD. It had been in the oven for nearly five hours and it was just as raw as when it entered the oven. My dad paced around the kitchen blaming himself for the uncooked meat, while my mom and I assured him that it was not his fault. The oven had conveniently broken on Easter Sunday, and even the crescent rolls on the top rack were still a pile of raw dough. At nearly 8pm, we abandoned the turkey.
My brother and nephew sprung into action and grilled burgers out on the grill, while my mom and I took out the leftover lasagna from the night before. My dad, still blaming himself for the broken oven (not sure why!) threw away the still-raw turkey, saying that Easter was “ruined.”
But to the contrary, Easter was not only not ruined, but it was perhaps the best Easter we’ve had. As I sat at the dining room table with my mix-and-match Easter dinner consisting of leftover lasagna and all the turkey dinner fixings that did manage to cook (stuffing, cranberries, peas, and mashed potatoes), I smiled at my plate full of carbs and at my family. Life was good, and we were happy. We were together, unlike many of my friends who spent Easter alone this year. During difficult times like these, especially with the looming fear that constantly envelops us, little moments like these teach us big lessons. I like to think that I always appreciate what I have, but to be honest, I haven’t always appreciated everything. Sometimes, I find myself spending too much time planning my next adventure that I don’t fully embrace the gifts of the present moment. If there is one lesson that I have learned during this quarantine, it’s to never take a day for granted and to appreciate life’s simple blessings, like coffee dates with friends and the freedom to walk into any store at any time I wish. You see, the turkey doesn’t matter; what matters is the love that sits in those seats next to you. I wouldn’t have cared if my Easter dinner consisted of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Actually, that would have made the story even more memorable…
Ms. Independent, it’s not about the turkey. It has never been about the turkey. Life is about appreciating each little blessing, even if they arrive disguised in the form of a broken oven. We laughed so hard all evening long, and laughter is exactly what we needed. Life is truly so special when we have the courage to see the blessings in a plate full of carbs.
And you know what? Lasagna and stuffing go together pretty well. I dare you to muster up the courage to try it sometime. 😉
Bon Appetit!
-C
The C-Word 