I had been warned. In the weeks leading up to Thanksgiving friends had expressed concern about how the holiday might be sad this year. This would be the first of the sentimental holidays without my mother. Thanksgiving, the day for big meals and deep gratitude. A holiday for musing in family prayer and social media posts about all the things that make us lucky. It is the #blessed holiday. They worried because I would be down one blessing this year.
It wasn't that emotional. Of course, I missed our early morning phone call to discuss food prep and an end of day recap on family news. But, missing phone calls are very familiar by now. Mom & I had spent Thanksgiving together on and off over the years. It wasn't like I looked at her empty chair, as we sat to savor the Cracker Barrel turkey and dressing, and felt the loss. There had been many Thanksgivings without her at the table. Whether we shared pumpkin pie was fully dependent on what my kid's schedules were like and, in later years, whether she felt able to travel. It turns out the designated day to gather with family and friends, share a traditional meal and express gratitude for the good things in life, is not the day that evoked moving memories of my mother.
The day I spent pushing down the lump in my throat is the day set aside as homage to rabid consumerism, Black Friday. I don't mean the Black Friday of today where you start shopping "Black Friday" sales online a good week before Thanksgiving. Now, there is no advantage and no fun in hitting the brick & mortar retail bastions. I mean the REAL Black Friday. The Black Friday of the late 80's and 90's. The Black Friday where all the women got up at 3:30am and met in the dark kitchen, the air thick with camaraderie and anticipation of 80% off Doorbusters. Armed only with our stacks of store flyers from the Thursday newspaper, and a carefully devised plan of who goes where first and what they have to get. My mother loved the excitement of standing in the freezing cold for an hour, in a long line of cheery deal chasers, wrapped around Toys R Us or Best Buy. I have so many happy and deeply rooted memories of Black Friday shopping with Mom; the time I left my very first iPhone in a bin at the Gymboree in the Tippecanoe Mall and we had to run back like mad women to retrieve it or the time we showed up to the Toys R Us by the Wolfchase Mall at 4:00am only to find that it had been open for an hour and we could just walk right in and get all the Doorbusters! Oh, I long for one of those 9:00am "lunch" breaks with Mom. Where we take inventory of what we got and start making a plan for our second tier deals.
I haven't been Black Friday shopping in years but I just had to get out this year, I wanted to try and capture a little of the magic that she and I had shared. I talked my college freshman daughter into a 9:00am departure and she brought along her boyfriend. It was nice to spend a bit of time with them and explain the true meaning of Black Friday but you could hardly call that experience Black Friday. Although I did see a few relics from years gone by, women with matching t-shirts. They were all about my age or older and I wondered was it still magical if you have someone with you who believes in the power of Black Friday? There were hardly any crowds and the deals were nothing to stand in line over. We were home by noon. I called Dad in the afternoon and he said, "do you remember when y'all used to go shopping on this day?'. Yes, Dad, I remember.
Oh, my heart aches to relive that day set aside for female hunting and gathering. The thrill of victory in the dark, cold morning. The girl talk, the gossip, the shopping... it was the greatest of times on the most wonderful of holidays.