Yearnings

Some yearnings never go away, do they?

Every December I yearn for this…

[The Progressive Farmer December 1956]

This picture affects me the same way Norman Rockwell's famous Thanksgiving Day picture does. It's just plain pretty, for one thing, and it encompasses the charm of a bygone year that seems as real to me as yesterday.

Mother and Father sit at the ends of the Christmas Day Dinner table, grown children and grandchildren on the sides. They hold hands and bow their heads as Grace is said.

The Christmas tree is in a corner by the fireplace. The table is covered in white damask, red candles are in silver holders, a turkey is in front of the host and a ham near the hostess. A traditional Southern menu cooked to perfection.

All perfection, in my mind.

So, what's the problem? The problem is that the E.P. Garrett family probably, surely, had a faithful Cook in the kitchen and Help to maintain this Alabama house…

If Mrs. Garrett did it all alone then there goes more guilt heaped on my head.

Perfection.

Always out of reach, for me.

Why do I keep yearning for it?