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A McKinney Thanksgiving
*unedited — Please forgive any mistakes
Matt stood at the pool table in his parents basement. He lined up his shot, going for his second solid ball in the top right corner.
With the turkey in the oven and the sides prepared, the men had been relegated to kid duty while the women finished some kind of Christmas garland thingies for the church. He slid the pool cue back slowly, noted the kids standing around the massive electric train set up. They anxiously awaited while their Uncle Andrew set up for a massive wreck and derailment.
“Boom,” Matt said as the ball sank.
He and his brothers were playing teams, an unofficial game they’d made up as kids so everyone got to play. Back then they’d played for chores, or extra pie. Today, they played for money. Five dollars a ball.
Heavy footfalls on the wooden steps told him his dad was on the way.
“Who’s winning?” he asked on the last step.
Every one of his sons and son-in-law answered, “I am,” making his dad chuckle.
“Come over,” Tony said, holding out a cue stick for his father.
They caught his father up on the game and continued.
“Oh, I’m supposed to tell you,” his dad said. “They’re up there plotting a full family room rearrangement.”
“I thought they were twisting branches and ribbon.”
“They finished. They’ve moved on.”
There were groans around the table.
“What’s wrong with the way it is?” Patrick asked.
“Something about the tree and more seating facing the fire. I don’t know. Just prepare yourselves.”
Paul caught the foam basketball Tony tossed him, then shot, sinking it through the hoop attached to the opposite wall. “Why is it when women get together, they get all these new ideas? It’s either a rearrangement or a redecorating.”
“The female creativity, bro,” Andrew said from the train table.
“Could be worse,” Tony said. “They could be talking paint colors. Which leads to furniture colors which leads to rugs and carpet and wall stuff.”
“Best thing to do is just move it,” Paul said. “Invite some friends over, grill up some steaks, some beer. Move the furniture and be done with it. Everyone goes to bed with a happy woman.”
Tony straightened after his shot and looked at his brother-in-law. “But if you have your friends over to move furniture, don’t you have to do the same for all of them?”
“Yeah. But steak. Beer.”
“There is that.”
They were quiet a while, just playing the game, taunting each other in stride. After taking his last shot, Matt stepped back, leaned casually against a wooden post next to his dad. “How’s Mom?”
“She worries, but she’s holding up.”
He didn’t need to specify the question was about JT, the youngest McKinney. The one who, still struggling with a catastrophic injury, had relocated to the west coast and wouldn’t be at the Thanksgiving table.
Matt wondered if his own absence at family holidays all those years he’d served as a SEAL had brought the same sad look to his mother’s eyes. He figured maybe, and was sorry for it. Now that he had children of his own, he couldn’t imagine the weight of constant worry. “What about you?”
“I worry, but I’m holding up,” his dad said with a soft smile.
“I talked to him the other day. As much as one can talk to him. Mostly me talking, him grunting.”
His dad nodded.
“He’ll find his way,” Tony said, following their conversation. “He’s a McKinney after all. Anyone talk to Stephen?”
“He texted me this morning,” Matt answered. “Said he’d try to make it. Whatever that means.”
Andrew sank the last ball and took moment to celebrate.
“Okay, men,” his dad said when they’d finished. “Let’s go do our duty.”
They clomped upstairs, ushering the kids ahead of them.
“Can we eat now?” Jack asked.
“Not quite yet,” his grandfather answered. “Soon. If you think you can gather up some sticks and pinecones, we’ll have ourselves a great fire after dinner.”
“Okay!” Jack ran ahead, repeating his grandfather’s words in case his cousins hadn’t heard.
Matt reached the kitchen at the top of the stairs, turned and saw Abby. She stood in the center of the room, Mary, just a few days from her first birthday, propped on her hip. Could it have possibly been a year since he'd brought Abby here for the first time? He crossed to her and held his hands out for the baby. “Are you responsible for this?”
She smiled sweetly. “I might have had some ideas. And no way,” she said, angling her body so he couldn’t take Mary. “They need your muscle.”
“Pfft.” Patrick rolled his eyes. “We don’t need his muscle. And what are you doing?” he asked their dad, who stood leaning in the doorway.
“Supervising. Bad back,” he said, winking at Beth, Tony’s wife.
“Yeah, right,” Tony said.
“Why do you think we had all you kids, anyway?”
“Quit whining and start lifting,” Lizzy said, moving a lamp from an end table that, by her gesturing, was going to the other side of the room under the window.
Gracie leaped into a club chair just as Matt and Tony picked it up.
“Higher,” she yelled, squealing when they tipped her back.
“You think this is how it starts?” Tony asked, smiling at his niece, getting a free ride.
“Could be. Make it fun. Get other people to do the work.”
“And you noticed the empty Bloody Mary mix on the counter.”
“I noticed,” Matt said, and snagged a glance at his wife. Her cheeks were glowing, her smile wide and bright. His heart swelled at seeing her so happy. They had their own family, but she was also part of his. Surrounded by the warmth of love after going so long without.
After twenty minutes of raucous laughter over shouted ideas and good natured insults, his mom settled on an arrangement she was certain would allow for the Christmas tree.
“Thank you, my babies,” his mother said after it all. Tears sparkled in her eyes. Because it was more than moving pieces of fabric and wood. It was family.
The front door opened and Matt watched his brother Stephen step inside. Tall, on the lanky side from the weight he’d lost in the past two years. There was a mad rush for the door as his mom and sister accosted him. Stephen looked uncomfortable and uncertain, but he was here and that was a step. Maybe next year JT would be here.
He went to Abby, took Mary and slipped his arm around his wife’s waist. In a few minutes, they’d gather around his mother’s table, the same one he’d sat at as a boy. He’d have his own children within arm’s reach and his wife’s hand in his as they said a prayer of thanksgiving. He pulled Abby a little closer and figured no one in this room was as blessed or as thankful as he was.
“Now can we eat?” Jack asked, bursting in from the back deck, a horde of cousins behind him.
He bopped over to his parents, smelling of fall leaves and little boy.
“Yes.” Matt laid a hand on his son’s head. “Now we can eat.”
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