Just Passing

32. Giving Thanks

The six of us don't all fit in one car. As much as I am reluctant to admit this, maybe it is time to trade the SUV in for a minivan, or at least something with a third row. So, without a larger car, we caravan to Tiffany's folk's house. My parents have been there before, but it's been awhile, so I lead the way for the twenty-or-so minute ride.

There are already lots of cars filling up their driveway by the time we arrive. My in-laws live on the outskirts of the city, so while houses are more densely built in their neighborhood than where we live, there is plenty of street parking. We pull into a space just a few houses down and my parents make a quick u-turn and park across the street.

"Do you think we need to wear our coats?" I ask Tiffany as I turn off the ignition. The kids can't wear their puffy cold-weather gear in their car seats, and it's not exactly easy to just slip a coat on and off their waving toddler arms.

She scrunches up her mouth to think. "No, probably not worth the hassle for such a short walk. Besides, it's not that cold. You can run out to preheat the car before we leave."

"Okay, sounds good." I open the door and get out. Tiffany is right. It's not that cold, especially because I am wearing a zippered sweater over a long-sleeved collared shirt and wool slacks. A coat would be overkill.

My parents cross the street to help us get the kids out. Of course, my dad has his bomber jacket on and his free hand is in his pocket. His other hand, which is gloved, holds a bottle of wine. I shake my head and laugh. Maybe they should move down to Florida after he retires.

"You got the kids? Let me grab those beautiful biscuits that you made," my mom offers.

"I have the wine," Dad adds, unnecessarily.

Together, the six of us walk up the stairs to Marty and Aileen's front porch. Before we reach the top step, the door flies open. "It's the Grahams!" announces Marty's booming voice. His enormous frame fills the doorway, and he steps back to usher us in from the chilly air. As we cross the threshold, we are greeted by the warm aroma of cooking turkey and the raucous laughter and cacophonous conversations of Tiffany's large family. Katherine's scruffy terrier-mix, Bullseye, runs to welcome us, jumping on and licking the kids.

"Bullseye, down, be nice to my babies," Katherine, with her flowing long auburn hair and wiry frame, strides over from where she had been setting the table in the dining room. "Hey guys!" she says with a huge grin and then squats down in front of Nora and Spencer and grabs Bullseye's collar. "He is almost as excited to see you as I am."

"Dog!" Nora yells.

"She likes dogs," Spencer elaborates.

We all laugh.

"Here, let me take that from you, Judy." Marty holds his hands out and my mother passes the tray of biscuits to him.

"We also brought wine," my dad awkwardly holds out the bottle that he is gripping.

"Thanks, Frank. And, good to see you," Marty says gregariously, but his hands are full and he does not take the bottle. "Happy Turkey Day!"

It's so discordant to see my father and Marty together in the same room. The hockey-obsessed macho jock and the math nerd. Brawn and brain.

Aileen comes out from the kitchen to greet us. Her apron is covered in flour dust and grease smudges, but her hair is impeccably coiffed and her makeup is freshly applied. "Frank! Judy! So glad you could make it! Please, please, come in, get comfy. Did Marty offer you a drink yet?"

"Of course, of course," Marty replies. "Let me put this tray down and then I'll get everyone's drink orders. Oh, Frank brought wine."

My dad just smiles and holds out the bottle again. This time, Aileen takes it.