Many years ago I spread a thick, gleaming white tablecloth on our Thanksgiving table, and, after dinner, passed around a permanent pen and asked everyone to write short notes of gratitude on the cloth next to their place.

Our First Messages

That year there were just five of us: Mom, Dad, my husband, my tiny son, and me. My son was the first to accept the task. He scrawled “BATS AND FROOGS!” in his boxy uppercase letters.

My mom wrote where we were celebrating that year and what the weather was like. The rest of us took turns scribbling our brief sentences of gratitude for family and food.

The next day, I gently washed and folded the cloth, putting it away until the following year.

The Messages Grow and Change

During the tablecloth’s second Thanksgiving, Mom and I smiled as my son carefully wrote that he was grateful for his new baby sister.

The next year a dear friend passed the sweet potatoes and knocked dark red wine across the center of the white cloth. The year after that, next to the still-brown stain, she wrote she was thankful for second chances.

My toddler daughter very seriously explained her Morse-code-like lines and dots: “I love my dog Jack.”

After that, Thanksgiving grew to a larger family gathering, away from my house. Even though the tablecloth came every year, Mom never failed to greet me with, “Did you bring the tablecloth?”

A year later, we sadly shared that we missed our older dog Jack but were thankful for the times that we had with him.

A Record of Life’s Inevitable Changes

As I ironed the cloth one year, I noticed that the older notes were starting to fade a little, but Mom said, “Don’t worry about it—it’s all part of life’s changes!”

Then we had a big, unexpected change. Last year was the first Thanksgiving without Mom. I tucked the tablecloth into my suitcase as I went to share Thanksgiving away from home, but I couldn’t bear to bring it out. It didn’t seem right to have the tablecloth without Mom.

I tried again at Christmas. As I ironed the tablecloth and then carefully traced over some of the fading letters, I thought about all the glorious memories I had of her—planning and cooking meals, playing games, even washing dishes. After dinner, I wrote my note on the tablecloth about Mom, of course.

As long as I have this tablecloth, I will remember this Oh, I see moment about life’s inevitable changes, happy and sad. This year I may just write how I’m grateful for this no-longer-gleaming-white piece of cloth and all the special memories it has shared.

Comment on this post below, or inspire insight with your own OIC Moment here.

$\"Table$

Messages and memories are at the table
\u00a9 Janine Boylan<\/p><\/div>\n

Our Family’s Thanksgiving Tradition<\/span><\/h2>\n
Many years ago I spread a thick, gleaming white tablecloth on our Thanksgiving table, and, after dinner, passed around a permanent pen and asked everyone to write short notes of gratitude on the cloth next to their place.<\/p>\n
$\"Thanksgiving$
My son is grateful for “bats and frogs”
\u00a9 Janine Boylan<\/p><\/div>\n
Our First Messages<\/h4>\n
That year there were just five of us: Mom, Dad, my husband, my tiny son, and me. \u00a0My son was the first to accept the task. He scrawled \u201cBATS AND FROOGS!\u201d in his boxy uppercase letters.<\/p>\n
My mom wrote where we were celebrating that year and what the weather was like. The rest of us took turns scribbling our brief sentences of gratitude for family and food.<\/p>\n
The next day, I gently washed and folded the cloth, putting it away until the following year.<\/p>\n
The Messages Grow and Change<\/h4>\n
During the tablecloth\u2019s second Thanksgiving, Mom and I smiled as my son carefully wrote that he was grateful for his new baby sister.<\/p>\n
The next year a dear friend passed the sweet potatoes and knocked dark red wine across the center of the white cloth.\u00a0The year after that, next to the still-brown stain, she wrote she was thankful for second chances.<\/p>\n
My toddler daughter very seriously explained her Morse-code-like lines and dots: \u201cI love my dog Jack.\u201d<\/p>\n
$\"Thanksgiving$
Important words give meaning to Thanksgiving
\u00a9 Janine Boylan<\/p><\/div>\n
After that, Thanksgiving grew to a larger family gathering, away from my house. Even though the tablecloth came every year, Mom never failed to greet me with, \u201cDid you bring the tablecloth?\u201d<\/p>\n
One year we added that we were grateful for our new puppy.<\/p>\n
A year later, we sadly shared that we missed our older dog Jack but were thankful for the times that we had with him.<\/p>\n
A Record of Life’s Inevitable Changes<\/h4>\n
As I ironed the cloth one year, I noticed that the older notes were starting to fade a little, but Mom said, \u201cDon\u2019t worry about it\u2014it\u2019s all part of life\u2019s changes!\u201d<\/p>\n
Then we had a big, unexpected change. Last year was the first Thanksgiving without Mom. I tucked the tablecloth into my suitcase as I went to share Thanksgiving away from home, but I couldn\u2019t bear to bring it out. It didn\u2019t seem right to have the tablecloth without Mom.<\/p>\n
I tried again at Christmas. As I ironed the tablecloth and then carefully traced over some of the fading letters, I thought about all the glorious memories I had of her\u2014planning and cooking meals, playing games, even washing dishes. After dinner, I wrote my note on the tablecloth about Mom, of course.<\/p>\n
As long as I have this tablecloth, I will remember this\u00a0Oh, I see moment\u00a0<\/strong>about\u00a0life\u2019s inevitable changes, happy and sad. This year I may just write how\u00a0I\u2019m grateful for this no-longer-gleaming-white piece of cloth and all the special memories it has shared.<\/p>\n
$\"Thanksgiving$
Everyone writes, no matter what the age
\u00a9 Janine Boylan<\/p><\/div>\n
Comment<\/a>\u00a0on this post below, or inspire insight with your own\u00a0OIC Moment<\/strong>\u00a0here<\/a>.<\/em><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":null,"protected":false},"author":6,"featured_media":2594,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[99,199],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2459","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-heritage-culture","category-usa-mappoints"],"aioseo_notices":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2459","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/6"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2459"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2459\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":40541,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2459\/revisions\/40541"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/2594"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2459"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2459"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.oh-i-see.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2459"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}