A Peaceful Thanksgiving
“I have had enough!” I thundered.
The house became silent. James stopped trying to pinch Ian and Ian stopped trying to chin-spear James and both boys looked at me with wide eyes. Sandi looked at me quizzically. Even the pets stared at me. This outburst was so unlike me, it startled everyone, including the pets.
James and Ian had been squabbling all morning, running and screaming from room to room with meaningless disputes over meaningless toys. On this Thanksgiving morning, we were not giving thanks for being a family and being together and I was fed up.
I thought back to one Thanksgiving morning when I was young. Overwhelmed by sibling bickering, I left the house for a brief walk, strolling along a creek that wound through the undeveloped areas in my neighborhood. The cold, the solitude and the immersion into nature refreshed me spiritually and allowed me to accept and enjoy my family when I returned. Perhaps it would work with James and Ian, too.
“Put on your coats and get into the car,” I ordered as I winked reassuringly at Sandi.
We drove to the Kenneth Road Soccer Complex where I parked and turned off the car.
“There are two rules,” I announced before we got out, “No talking and no running.”
Just like my walk so many years ago, I could almost feel the stillness. No birds sang and no traffic noises intruded. Even the tread of our feet, muffled by damp leaves on the ground, made no sound. Only an occasional stray breeze that rattled the remaining leaves and seedpods against their stalks broke the silence. The boys remained quiet. Whether they were following my direction or some unspoken command by our surroundings, I couldn’t tell. We walked up on the bridge over the Blue River, our loud footsteps on the wooden planking quickly absorbed by the prevailing silence, and stood watching the flow. Rapids burbled gently in the distance and we left the bridge, walking beside the woods.
Sandi looked at me and lifted her wrist, glancing downward. We had been at the park for about 30 minutes and the turkey in the oven needed attention.
“Come on, guys,” I said gently, “It’s time to go.”
Amazingly, the boys remained quiet. They didn’t object and they didn’t squabble. They simply got into the car and buckled up without any fuss. On the way home, I glanced at them in the rearview mirror. Each boy stared thoughtfully out his window.
The peace the boys had found during our brief walk remained after we got home. The bickering, screaming and fighting had disappeared, almost as if by magic. The boys just hung up their coats and went into their room. I helped Sandi in the kitchen, all the while listening for new signs of sibling conflict.
Finally, the feast was ready and I went to call the boys for dinner. I walked to their bedroom door and looked in. James and Ian were playing quietly together.
Belton dad Bill Bartlett is thankful for his family and his new grandbaby.