dr. pepper

Every Sunday, I go to the grocery store. It's only a bike ride away, and it has a really nice variety of goods. This is where my Starbucks drinks and Goldfish can be found (unless there is a Goldfish drought, like there was for about three weeks in September). They have a lot of American food at outrageous prices, but I know it's there if I ever feel like I can't go another minute without a taste of home. One thing I buy every week is a cold can of Dr. Pepper. I'm not sure why this is, but today as I enjoyed the delicious combination of 23 flavors, I began to understand. Dr. Pepper, unlike Coke, isn't available on every inch of the planet. Maybe that's why I get one. But then I began to think about what Dr. Pepper means to me, what Sundays mean to me, and then I understood.

My whole life, Sundays meant driving to Springhill to see my grandparents. Both sets of them lived there, so it was really great that we got to see them so often. Going to my dad's parent's house meant sitting down to a home-cooked meal and enjoying a glass of sweet tea, or, if you were a grandkid, an ice cold Dr. Pepper. So there we have it. Somewhere in my subconscious, I am longing for those wonderful Sunday afternoons in Mamaw Frances' living room.

I guess with Thanksgiving coming up, I'm beginning to recognize all sorts of blessings. Blessings in memories, most of all. Blessings in knowing that, even though a person may be gone or a certain time in life is over, I have incredibly vivid memories that I can cherish.

Speaking of Thanksgiving, this will be my very first one away from my family. Who will be there to turn up their nose at all the gross Thanksgiving food? Who will be in the roll-eating competition with my brother, Ryan? Who will be the only person going to Dairy Queen because it's the only restaurant open that day? Obviously, I'm not a fan of the food, but I am a huge fan of the day itself. The weather is just right for putting on a sweater and going outside to throw the football. The other day, I was trying to explain to one of my students what the air feeling "crisp" meant. She will never understand that feeling unless she ventures out of Southeast Asia, even though sometimes they complain of being cold when the temperature hits 80. C'mon, kids. You don't know the meaning of cold!

Count your blessings, y'all.

Mere