Huntington's Disease: Thanksgiving

Huntington's Disease

2 Thanksgiving

My father’s nine surviving siblings gathered
each year in the house on the hill for Thanksgiving

dinner. The Aunts lined all the food up
on Aunt Louise’s counters, deserts on the kitchen

table. Mom would bring pineapple slices with a dollop
of mayo and a slice of American cheese on top,

jello from a box which was promptly placed
in the back under the cabinets. How to compete

with a family of Southern epicurists who guarded
their brother nearly as jealously as their recipes

for ooey-gooey cake, Mississippi mud pie, sweet
cornbread, uncured ham, turkey so tender it falls

from the bone, green bean casserole…? Julie Beth,
who loved pineapple, helped finish the plate off. Mike,

who loved jello, handled that. “There’s a lot of food,”
Dad would say, “Next year, you should bring less.”

C.L. Bledsoe

Posted over on The Dead Mule
From his Chapbook: MY MOTHER MAKING DONUTS.