Hey, Ma. Happy day after thanksgiving!
The last two Thanksgivings just haven’t been the same. Remember how when we were about to eat and you wouldn’t let us start till we went around the table and each said what we were thankful for? I always hated that. And now, I have no idea why.
I should’ve just said I was thankful for you. I was so lucky to have you for a mom all those years. Except maybe for okra.
Funny. As we were driving into town, Mo asked if we could stop by the cemetery. I wasn’t sure why she wanted to go, but I know she misses you terribly. I thought it would be a great way to start Thanksgiving.
I got out of the car, while Mo dug around in the back. A minute later, she appeared. With six Dr Peppers. The good stuff — glass bottles, real sugar.
We just went through the whole Dia de los Muertos thing, where people build little shrines to their beloved family members. She wanted to do the same thing for you.
She started out leaving three Dr Peppers — one for each of us, so we could celebrate together. In the end, she left the whole six pack, thinking you might need a little extra, in case John Wayne doesn’t know what they taste like and want to share.
It’s illegal to leave stuff at the cemetery, so please drink it quickly.
Thanksgiving isn’t the same without you. I’m glad we got to celebrate with you after all. Mo is wise.
I love you. I hope you’re OK.
p.s. we had mac and cheese with green onions today. I ate mine but Mo didn’t. But I promised I wouldn’t rat her out. So I won’t.