Home for the holidays

In which my father, despite increasing mobility and agility issues, insists on assuming his ritual role as Thanksgiving turkey-carver … sharpens a knife for a half hour to ensure efficacy … almost slices off his own thumb while attacking the carcass … proceeds to bleed all over every dish … pouts at the table when I insist he hold his bloody bandaged hand upright … drips red drops across our white carpet … and is finally convinced to go to the ER … only to awake the next morning energized and eager to trim a small limb on the tree behind our condo* with his chainsaw.

*Shout-out to our former condo neighbors who looked on with horror as I assured them Dad’s behavior was typical.