Our First Thanksgiving

I grew up in a time where girls were in the kitchen with their mothers, grandmothers and aunts and watched and helped while they cooked. This was also a time to hear all of the juicy neighborhood gossip. The latter was lost on me, but I did develop my natural aptitude for cooking.
On mine, Melvin and the boys first Thanksgiving together I decided, this was it, my time to show Melvin he need not look any further, I was the woman for him and the pies ta resistance would be a home cooked Thanksgiving dinner. I was terrified, yes I could cook, but at 24 I had never prepared an entire holiday feast, my mother did that. So here I am auditioning for motherhood in Melvin's kitchen.  Melvin gets all of the food items on my dinner list, I'm in the kitchen and ready to go, I call my mother, "What to do first?" "Is your turkey thawed and ready," my mom says. "Yes." "Well start with that." I remember I have a Betty Crocker cookbook at home so I rush over and get it for backup. I get the turkey on, start cleaning and cutting the greens, Melvin enters, "You got it smelling good Poo." with his trade mark kiss on the forehead. Oh it's on now, my confidence is through the roof.
I gather Melvin must have gotten on the phone and told his family and friends that I was cooking, because people were popping in and spreading the holiday cheer. By now the fear had left me and I was in that kitchen like a pro. Here comes Melvin's friend J.B. "Look at ole Kisafer cookin', I call Kisafer Mel cause she look so kissable." I just smile, I could see Melvin's chest sticking out with pride. I was on my way. I knew that even if the dinner wasn't good I would have a chance to redeem myself the next year and there would be a next year.
Then it came, "J.B. join us for dinner." What, what, if it ain't good for you and the boys that's one thing, but guests, they'll run my name through the mud. I could just hear it, Sugar Hill Gang in real life, " Have you ever went over a friends house to eat and the food just ain't no good, I mean the macaroni's soggy, the peas all mushed and the TURKEY tastes like wood..." I can't have him putting doubt in my baby's head by teasing him about my cooking, I've got to get this right. I was a ball of nerves again. I call mom, I get the book, call mom get, the book, this goes on all day.
Finally I get the major foods cooked and refrigerated for the next day and Thursday morning I'll fix the potato salad, yams, pies and gravy any other last minute items.
Around three o' clock we're all dressed and ready to eat, by know I am too exhausted to fear the final verdict. Melvin says the blessing and we begin to eat. Silence. All you can hear is forks hitting plates. They enjoyed it, I did it, thank you Jesus. It was that day that Melvin began to tell me after ever meal, "Poo, that was just too damn good." Sometimes it was so, sometimes not so much, but it warmed my soul and now I am a pretty good chef. Oh J.B. took a plate home.

Tomorrow