Down the Rabbit Hole

Turkey and the Tickle Monster

The four day weekend and ensuing holiday afforded me many opportunities to recognize all the things I am most thankful for. There was the bounty of good food, hours spent with family and friends and even a few of those soft, quiet moments we so rarely get to enjoy as parents of a growing toddler. I think overall, it was one of the nicest Thanksgivings on record, aside from the ones spent as children, with both parents and extended family united under the same roof. It is hard to compete with those holidays of yesterday when, as children, we were free to become blissfully caught up in all things fun and festive, believing as innocent children do, that things would all remain the same. As adults, and being spouses and parents ourselves, we have come to understand life is beautifully complex but holidays can still be enjoyable and fulfilling even if they are disjointed and displaced. We still manage to share the joy even if it is simply by texting one another as we sit down to meals at separate tables.

Perhaps the best part of the holiday weekend where the little surprise opportunities to enjoy something rare in each other. Upon returning home on Thanksgiving, Jaden fell asleep shortly before 7:00pm and I, drawing on some mysterious new energy reserves, set about decorating the house for Christmas. In the space of two hours, Fatih and I were cuddled under the glow of the christmas tree lights sipping cold mugs of sweet eggnog. Then two night later, following a holiday boat parade in Mystic, Jaden and I joined my brother's family for leftovers at my Dad's house. New baby Brandon slept peacefully in Joy's lap while Jaden and Tyler played with Grampa. I had been feeling an inexplicable distance growing between my father and I as of late so it was very healing to watch him with the kids, being every bit the loving Grandpa, engaged in the lives of his grandbabies, delighted to be with them. Watching him, I remembered the father of my youth. The father who would suddenly leap off the couch and growl at us, signaling the familiar animated chase that would take us through rooms and down narrow hallways. We would race against each other, bumping and jostling, screaming and giggling, rushing not to be the one that fell behind, the one would be be scooped up first by the tickle monster. The chase would inevitably lead to my mother, who would always open her arms and offer us refuge. The relief was short-lived though, as one by one my father would pry us from her and subject us to a merciless tickling that would leave us delirious with laughter and gasping for breath. After this spirited game, my father always seemed as spent and exhausted as the rest of us. I have the distinct memory of him, kneeling on the living room floor, breathing in ragged breaths and smiling up at my mother, a look passing between them that struck me, even then, as both secret and special.

My daughter and nephew have become the latest victims of this same tickle monster. He has aged considerably since those days of my youth, but he is no less merciful. The smile though, that's very much the same, brighter even, if that is possible. Some time later, just before we make ready to go, my father even drags his old base and amp from the basement and treats the kids to a little lesson. Something very powerful wells up inside me, makes my throat thick and my eyes tear as I watch. Tyler sits in his lap, his small arms wrapped around the beautiful cream-colored instrument, trying to follow his grandfather's instructions, his tiny fingers trying to mimic the movements. Jaden stands by in her footsie pajamas, watching them, waiting for her turn..completely enraptured with it. I am distinctly aware that this is a precious moment, one of the ones that life offers up without prejudice, without asking for anything in return other than to recognize and appreciate the wonder and grace of those few minutes. I am aware and I am thankful.