Over the river and through the woods

It’s been over ten years since I’ve made the traditional Thanksgiving trek to Grandma’s house. (In fact, it’s been over eight years since I’ve even seen her, which is a crying shame.)

It’s so odd to have let so much time pass like this — for a long time we would go twice a year. Once in the summer and again for Thanksgiving, where she would be up in the wee hours of the morning to cook a beautiful turkey and all the fixings.

This year my mother and I are going back, and driving alone the same roads, to cook for her. (And for whoever else shows up.)

“Oklahoma” gets a bad rap, just like “Nebraska” and “Kansas” — notorious for states that are boring to drive through. I will admit that there is a whole lot of SKY.

But that much sky also gives an opportunity to see things you could never see in the forest. We grew up driving through these landscapes, playing auto-bingo and becoming very, very good at spotting things in the sea of sameness.

Because really, it’s never the same.

The features on this quiet canvas are all as different as people, you just have to take the time to notice. All somewhat untouched by time, and all the more amazing for it.

And even the sameness gets spruced up for the holidays.

And each town does it in a different way.