The Turkey Bone

The holiday dinners were over. The Christmas dishes were stored in the closet for another year. All the decorations had been carted to the storeroom along with the old artificial pine tree, wrapped in plastic. Anne still found the occasional "pine" needle the tree had dropped as she dusted. She carefully picked up the framed Christmas photos of her grandchildren. She ran her fingers lovingly over each one. They're all another year older.

After the happy chaos of the holidays, the house was too quiet. Gone was the laughter, the constant clanging of pots and pans while the family favorites were created. No children constantly underfoot chasing each other through the house. Anne sighed and cranked the TV louder. The news was usually depressing but filled the empty space with voices. Outside, the snow fell, piling up in the streets. There were no vehicles, and no one bothered to go anywhere in the silent snow.

Anne looked in the freezer and pulled out a bag of bones from the huge turkey she'd baked. She shoved them into her large Instant Pot™ and added leftover bits of onions and celery leaves she kept in the freezer for soup. She added enough water to cover and a bouquet garni of her favorite combination of herbs and spices. Setting it to manual for 90 minutes, she settled back down in her easy chair to do her daily puzzles. The scent from the kitchen was both comforting and melancholic. She drifted off to sleep.

Anne dreamed of small children in the yard, jumping in snow piles and throwing snowballs at each other. Back inside, with their rosy cheeks and cold hands, they warmed up with hot cocoa, eagerly awaiting the sugar cookies baking in the oven. She woke with a start. The blissful images faded and were replaced by newscasters pontificating about politics and war.

Anne checked on the turkey soup. The Instant Pot™ had reached natural release a while ago. She pulled out the bones and strained the broth. Quickly chopping carrots, onion, celery stalks, and potatoes, she sauteed them in butter and added cubes of leftover frozen turkey and broth. The timer was set for 10 min, and then she did a quick release.

She ladled herself a big bowl, poured a glass of white wine, and placed it on her TV tray in front of her easy chair. The news was too repetitive, so she switched it to reruns of the Family Feud™ and yelled answers at the TV between slurps of soup. After the Feud, she carried her bowl and glass to the kitchen, rinsed her dish, and refilled her wine glass.

The bones were cooled, so she upended the colander in the sink's trash drawer. The bones tumbled into the container, except for the big turkey leg bone. It bounced. She tried to catch it, but it ricocheted off the basket's rim and disappeared in the small opening where the kitchen plumbing was. She collected a flashlight and her handy dandy grabber tool from the broom closet and attempted to retrieve the bone. There was not a trace of it under the kitchen cabinet. She gave up, washed her hands, and refilled her wine glass.

As she settled back down in her chair, she started to laugh. She imagined that someday, new owners would want to reno the kitchen. When they lifted the cabinet base, they would discover a very large bone hiding underneath. The laughter continued until the tears came.

She muttered, "My bones aren't getting any younger. Maybe, all they'll find of me is a pile of old bones someday."

Anne finished her wine, turned off the TV and the lights, and headed for bed, hoping to dream of children in the snow.