by Melissa (Honey Bee)

There was a definite chill in the air.
      Nan smiled at the little weeds that were still growing in the back yard.  The trees surrounding the house were mostly bare of leaves, except for the evergreen pines and a few hardy trees that had some brown leaves clinging to the branches.
      Nan had not come outside after school for a plant or insect as was the usual case, but she had come to think.
      Her father was coming.  Her father was coming!  Tomorrow, on Thanksgiving day, he was coming!  Nan smiled broadly and picked a nearby sprig of leaves.  She stuck it in her hair and twirled about laughing at the excited feeling and the quickening of her heartbeat.
      After so long ago writing to her father, with the message of her love for him, she had despaired that he would never write back.  He was too busy . . . Maybe he just didn’t care.
      The letter had been delayed, but she had it safely gripped in her hand now.  He did care . . . he loved her.  She took out the paper again, savoring the words she had always longed to hear.
      ‘My darling daughter, I have missed you so much! . . . Forgive me for my wretched absence.  My heart has been too wounded by your mother’s death. . . . Every time I looked at you it was like seeing her, and the dagger came all over again.  I love you as much as life.  I know I have had a hard time saying it or showing it, but I love you.  So much!  I will cut back on my work and come to see you as much as I am able to.  Is it all right with Mrs. Bhaer if I come for Thanksgiving?  I thank God for you.

                              With love,
                                                                                                                                   Your Papa

There was an unspeakable, trembling happiness in Nan’s heart.
      “I love you, Papa,” she whispered.

The sound of fluttering wings, clucking, and feathers flying awoke Jo.
      “Christopher Columbus!” she exclaimed, standing up quickly on unsteady feet.
      The turkey and two chickens circled wildly about her, and she darted out the pen door.
      “Well, well.”
      Jo swirled and almost tripped.  Nick stood with an axe in his hands and an amused smile on his face.
      “Sayin’ goodbye to poor ol’ Red?”
      Jo flushed and stammered, “No, I—I—fell asleep in there after feeding the chickens this morning.”
      “I suggest ya’ get some sleep tonight.  An’ don’t forget the feathers in yer hair. . . . Though they don’t look bad on ya’, I think you’d prefer to get ‘em out.”
      Jo was brushing furiously at her hair.
      Nick chuckled and entered the chicken coop.
      Jo shook her skirt out and hurried to the house.
      “ . . . Turkey and gravy and apple pie!”  The crackling from the fireplace blended with the excited voices of the children in the parlor.
      “Tommy, don’t forget, you have to clean out Penny’s stall today,” Jo called.  “And the rest of you have chores as well.”
      They groaned and stirred slowly from their chairs.
      Jo climbed the stairs and went to her room.  She sighed and sat down on her bed.  “Decorations to make . . . If Amy were here she would have a ball.”  She smiled wryly, remembering the “Enchanted Ball” Amy had thought up last year.
      As Jo stood up and was pondering what to use for a table bouquet, she remembered the time her Marmee had told her that Thanksgiving was about more than turkey or splendid decorations.  It was a time to thank God for every blessing.
      “I am thankful, but I get caught up in material pleasures and sometimes overlook the One who gives us everything,” Jo whispered.  We played Pilgrims that Christmas long ago, and learned to be thankful. . . . Have I forgotten the lesson?

“Bess, remember how you made the swan napkins?” Nan said as she set down the last plate on the dinner table.
     “Yes,” Bess answered slowly.
     “Would you make them again?  Please?”
     Bess noted the light shining in Nan’s eyes and thought that she had never seen Nan so happy.  Bess was glad that Nan’s father was coming for Thanksgiving, but she wistfully remembered that her parents were away on a trip and wouldn’t be back until December.
     Bess sighed.  “Dan thought my napkins looked like chickens.”
     “So?  We’re eating turkey, and that’s like chicken, so it’s perfect!”
     Bess made a face.  “I wanted them to be graceful swans. . . . Your father might laugh at them.”
     “He won’t.  Come on, Bess!  They didn’t look too much like chickens, anyway.”
     “Well . . . if you insist.”  Bess picked up a napkin and started folding it carefully.
     Nan skipped away to the kitchen, sniffing in the aroma of bay leaf turkey, potatoes, squash, and apple pie.  “Hi, Asia.”
     “Now you just stay out of my kitchen, you hear?”  But there was a smile on Asia’s face.
     “I’ll stay out of the way.”  Nan stood in the doorway.  “I’m just so happy!”
     Asia pulled the apple pie out of the oven.  “I know you are.  An’ I’m happy for you.”  There was a painful pause afterwards and a slight frown that crossed Asia’s face.
     Nan’s smile faded and she stared at Asia in comprehension.  “Oh, Asia . . . I’m so sorry about your father,” Nan murmured.
     Asia swallowed and looked down, blinking.
     Nan went to Asia and slipped an arm around her quietly.
     Asia closed her eyes and hugged Nan close.

Horses hooves clip-clopped on the front drive.  Nan raced to the front door, threw it open, and was waiting with undisguised excitement for the carriage to stop.
     The tall, distinguished gentleman that stepped out of the coach was besieged with a hug before he could catch his breath.
     “Nan!”  His breath came out in happy gusts, and he caressed Nan’s hair with his large hands.
     “Papa!  I love you!” Nan exclaimed, looking up at her father’s face, studying it closely for a moment as if wondering if it was all a dream and perhaps she had been mistaken to think that he actually loved her.
     Mr. Harding’s mouth spread in a smile, and he confidently but quietly said, “And I love you.”
     Nan had no doubts any more, although she felt some disappointment that he had not shown his affection before.
     Nat stepped down from the porch and shook Mr. Harding’s hand enthusiastically.  “Good to see you, Mr. Harding.”
     They ascended the steps, and Jo was greeting Mr. Harding cordially and asking if he was well.  The children welcomed him inside, and he glowed with happiness at the feeling of Nan’s small hand in his own.
     The dinner was on the table, and Asia spoke up, “It’s all gonna get cold if y'all stand there much longer.”
     “Howdy, Mr. Harding,” Nick nodded, smiling.
     They soon were all seated at the table, Asia taking a seat next to Emil, and Nick next to Jo, his eyes darting warmly in her direction.
     All were quiet as they looked towards Jo, waiting for the blessing.  They all felt anxious to dig into the succulent turkey that was wafting its flavor in the air, and all the other simple, hearty vegetables and puddings and pies.
     Jo smiled and surveyed the numerous faces lovingly.  She took a deep breath and began, “I know everyone is hungry, and Asia, I know you will be upset if we let it get cold, but there is something I must say before we begin.   Something we all must do.”  Jo swallowed and glanced at Nick, who was smiling.  “It’s easy to get caught up in our affairs and the excitement of the holiday.  Every day I feel myself rushing through things, taking things for granted, and sighing in discontent for things that could be better.  But the truth is that we all have so much to be thankful for.”  Each face was staring ponderingly.  “Yes, some of you don’t have fathers or mothers; some of you don’t have brothers or sisters.  But look at how much we do have!”  She paused and looked about.  The house was warm, with a fire crackling in the fireplace; the table was filled with food.  “I want everyone to name something, or more than one thing, that they are thankful for.
     “I’m thankful for all this good food,” Tommy grinned.  “I just hope we get to eat it!”
     They laughed.
     “I’m thankful for Papa,” Nan said, looking up at him.
     “I’m thankful for my daughter, Nan.  And that she gave me a chance to show my love for her.”  Mr. Harding squeezed Nan’s hand under the table.
     “I’m thankful for Mrs. Jo, and her willingness to teach us all,” Nat said.  “She puts up with a lot.”
     Jo smiled.
     “I’m thankful for Asia.  She’s the best cook . . . and one of my best friends,” Emil said.
     Asia looked at him in happy amazement.
     “I’m thankful for this place,” Dan remarked.  “It is a home, and the people are like family.  I know I don’t deserve ‘em.”
     “I’m thankful for Mama,” Rob said cheerfully.
     “I’m thankful . . . for this place . . . for Mrs. Jo, who’s been a true friend,” Asia looked down, then at Jo.
     Nick caught Jo’s gaze.  “I’m thankful for everyone, but especially Jo.  She gave me a job and a home . . . and her friendship and love.”  Jo blushed and looked down.
     The rest tried not to notice.  “I’m thankful for Nan.  She wanted to be my friend even when I didn’t want her to be,” Bess said with a laugh.  She added, more seriously, “I love her like a sister.”
     Nan smiled across the table at Bess.  “I’m thankful for you, Bess, and your napkin swans.”
     “You mean chickens?” Dan said slyly.
     Bess made a face, and then laughed along with the others.
     Jo cleared her throat.  “I’m thankful for each and every one of you and your love.  I’m thankful for this place and my parents, and my sisters.  There’s too much to name right now!”  Jo took a Bible from beside her.  “I just want to read you a psalm.  This is who we are thanking, because He gave us everything and everyone we have and made us what we are.”
     The room became quiet again, in thoughtful attention.
     “Psalm one hundred,” Jo looked down and began to read.  “’Make a joyful noise unto the Lord, all ye lands!  Serve the Lord with gladness: come before his presence with singing.  Know that the Lord, he is God; it is he that hath made us, and not we ourselves; we are his people, and the sheep of his pasture.  Enter into his gates with thanksgiving, and into his courts with praise: be thankful unto him, and bless his name.  For the Lord is good; his mercy is everlasting; and his truth endureth to all generations.’”  She closed the book and bowed her head in prayer.
     After the “Amen” echoed throughout the room, they ate in happiness and true thanksgiving, knowing that there was a meaning to Thanksgiving that went far beyond turkey.