**Holiday Revelation**
by Britty J
The kitchen was full of family, each person moving with purpose as Thanksgiving prep took over the kitchen and dining room. The smell of herbs and seasoning hung in the air like a note, while the laughter and chatter kept the beat. In the background, old-school soul and R&B kept everyone upbeat.
Grandkids sat at the table deshelling boiled eggs, peeling sweet potatoes, and stripping greens from the stems. Their moms were elbow-deep in cleaning chitterlings, seasoning the turkey, and prepping sides and desserts.
Sue looked to her right as she mashed yolks for the deviled eggs and caught sight of her mama standing at the bottom of the stairs—smiling, one hand pressed gently against her heart. Her face was lit up with the excitement of her family helping her with Thanksgiving dinner. Sue smiled back, then went right back to mixing, glancing up every now and then as her mama made her way through the kitchen.
Her mama walked over toward her cousin at the stove, peeking into the pot of macaroni noodles. Then she made her way toward Sue’s sister, who was bent over the sink cleaning chitterlings, nodding approvingly at what she was witnessing.
Sue’s sister looked up suddenly and rubbed her arms. “Do y’all feel that? Like a cold breeze just came through here?”
Her cousin laughed lightly. “Yeah… and I could’ve sworn I heard Aunt Betty telling me to add more salt.”
Sue smiled softly, shaking her head as she went back to the deviled eggs. She looked to her left—her mama was standing beside her, smiling and shaking the paprika bottle, signaling for her to add some.
The laughter, the smells—it all felt like her mama was right there in the mix, supervising for once and resting.
As the noise of the kitchen swelled around her, Sue’s mind drifted back—to the day her mama sat her sister, cousin, and herself down for *the meeting.*
“Look here, y’all,” Grandma Betty said, settling into her seat. “I have cooked Sunday dinner every Sunday since y’all been born—and every holiday too. Now, I’m a spunky eighty-four-year-old woman in spirit, but this body? It’s tired. I want to enjoy my grandbabies on those holidays, not be stuck in the kitchen. So y’all figure out if y’all gonna cook or cater—and where it’s gonna be at, because I’m done!”
Grandma Betty used the table to push herself up. “Now, I’m gonna get this cherry cheesecake. I’ll grab some plates and forks too. If y’all want some?”
“Mama! Mama!” Sue heard her youngest daughter call. She looked down to see her pulling at her shirt.
“I’m hungry—and tired. Are we done yet?”
Sue looked at her baby and smiled. “We’re almost done, baby. Go see if your sister or brother need some help, okay? And y’all think about what y’all want for dinner—we’ll pick something up on the way home.”
“Okay, Mama. This little helper isn’t worth a nickel,” she said, walking toward the dining room.
Sue put the deviled eggs in the container. “How is everyone with everything? Y’all almost done?”
The family had prepared everything so they wouldn’t have to get up early to make sure Thanksgiving dinner was done in time. All they would need to do was cook the food, so there would be more fellowship with the family.
“Yeah, most of the food is in the fridge in the basement,” her cousin said.
Sue took the deviled eggs to the extra fridge. She opened the door and smiled, looking at the cherry cheesecakes. They were both her and Mama’s favorite. Looking at the cherry glaze on top of the cheesecake, smooth like a fitted blanket, Sue’s memory took her back to the table with her sisters and cousins.
“Well, Sue, your house is bigger, so it should be at your house,” Sue’s sister said.
Sue squinted, looking directly at her. “Well, you have all that backyard and that big deck, so your house can accommodate us as well.”
“So… would y’all rather cater?” Sue’s cousin asked, trying to change the subject.
“Now look here, don’t pick a caterer thinking if the food is not good that I’ll cook Christmas,” Grandma Betty said, shaking her head and placing the cheesecake on the table. “’Cause y’all’ll be right back where y’all started.”
“Sister cuz, you okay?” Sue’s cousin asked, standing beside her, looking into the fridge to see what had Sue’s attention.
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine. Memories, you know. Y’all getting ready to leave?”
“Yeah, everything’s cleaned up in the kitchen and dining room. Memories… huh, okay, I understand, Sue. We’ll see you tomorrow around one-ish?”
“Yeah, that’ll work. Thank y’all for helping out—be safe getting home, and I love y’all.”
“We love you too, girl. And get some rest, okay?” They hugged, and Sue’s cousin left her in the basement.
---
Thanksgiving Day had come and gone. The family filled Betty’s house once again, keeping the tradition alive. The men talked sports and politics in the living room while kids ran in and out, laughing and full of energy. The women talked about family, careers, and just life in general. Everything was perfect—just as Sue wanted and needed it to be this year.
After dinner, when everyone had left with their doggy bags, Sue sat alone in her mama’s recliner. The quiet felt heavy. Tears built behind her eyes, threatening to spill over like a dam breaking.
Prepping and hosting dinner, Sue had finally understood what her mama had been saying all those years—cooking and hosting dinner is tiring. She thought about all the excuses she used to give her mama for not helping or taking over, all the times she only did the bare minimum. Guilt pressed deep in her chest, heavy and unshakable, since her mom had passed just a little over a month ago.
Tears flowed down her cheeks. “I’m sorry, Mama. I’m so sorry,” Sue whispered. “You did all of this on your own—every year, every holiday—on top of being a mom, a wife, having your own worries, and still helping us any way you could. You were truly the backbone of this family, and I’m just now realizing the load you carried. And it’s too late, because you’re gone.” Sue buried her face in her knees, quietly sobbing over her revelation.
Sue’s oldest daughter walked into the living room. “You okay, Momma?”
Sue sat up, wiping her face. “Yeah, I just miss Grandma… and realized something.”
Her daughter sat beside her. “Yeah, I miss her too. Thanksgiving felt different without her here this year, but with us coming together—cooking and everything—it was still nice. Especially being at her house.”
Sue smiled, nodding in agreement.
“Do you need me to clean the kitchen for you, Momma? I don’t mind,” her daughter asked.
Sue felt a warmth in her soul. This was where she made sure her daughter would be able to help now—and one day, carry the torch of the holidays.
“I would appreciate that very much,” she said. “You know, one day, you’ll have to be the one to cook for the holidays.”
Her daughter laughed. “Yeah, I know, Momma. I’ll be fine. I actually like cooking—and I watched Grandma sometimes too. But can we eat a slice of cheesecake first? I saved me and you a half.” She giggled.
While they ate their cheesecake, Sue talked with her daughter about making sure that no matter what was going on in life, she always took time to rest and take care of herself. “It’s a must,” Sue said. “Being a woman is both a gift and a burden sometimes. We’re strong, but that strength can wear us down if we don’t stop to breathe. And especially being a Black woman—you don’t always have to carry everything on your own. Find refuge in the Lord, ask for help, and rest.”
Sue kicked her feet up in a chair and relaxed while her daughter started to clean up. As she cut into her cheesecake, she looked up and saw her mama sitting across the table, smiling in approval.
Sue exhaled softly, feeling peace wash over her. She knew her guilt had been used for good.
#lavender pen # Holidays stories
The story beautifully captures the essence of how family traditions during Thanksgiving extend beyond just cooking—it's about connection, memory, and honoring those who came before us. Many families face the challenge of preserving these customs while adapting to changing circumstances, especially when a central figure like Grandma Betty can no longer manage the holiday meal alone. This narrative underscores an important theme: the physical and emotional labor behind holiday hosting, particularly the role often carried by matriarchs. In many homes, especially within Black families, food preparation and hospitality are acts of love passed down through generations, but also carry a significant burden. Grandma Betty's decision to step back and encourage her family to share the responsibility highlights a needed shift towards equitable caregiving during holidays. This gives rise to meaningful conversations around self-care and the necessity of rest, themes Sue reflects on deeply. For those seeking to carry on such traditions while easing the burden, practical steps include organizing upfront food prep, delegating tasks among family members of all ages, and even considering catering as a thoughtful compromise, as hinted in the story. Using favorite dishes like cherry cheesecake as comfort and continuity helps keep the spirit alive. The gentle manifestations of Grandma Betty’s presence—from her guiding gestures about seasoning to the recalling of her spirited meeting with the family—demonstrate how legacies survive in the subtle, everyday moments. Her encouragement for the younger generation to take charge suggests the importance of mentoring and involving children early in these traditions to ensure they endure. Moreover, Sue's advice about finding refuge in faith and community support resonates as a universal reminder: no one should bear the weight of caregiving alone. Black women, in particular, often face the duality of strength and vulnerability, balancing pride in their resilience with the need for genuine rest and assistance. In sharing these slices of life infused with laughter, nostalgia, and bittersweet realizations, this story encourages readers to value the unsung efforts behind festive gatherings. It invites reflection on honoring our elders by embracing both the joy and responsibility of keeping traditions meaningful and manageable for future generations.
