The Taste of Sweet Potato Pie (& Other Forgotten Comforts)

Here comes the cold
Break out the winter clothes
And find a love to call your own
You - enter you
Your cheeks a shade of pink
And the rest of you in powder blue

Who knows what will be
But I'll make you this guarantee

No way November will see our goodbye
When it comes to December it's obvious why
No one wants to be alone at Christmas time

And come January we're frozen inside
Making new resolutions a hundred times
February, won't you be my valentine?
And we'll both be safe 'til St. Patrick's Day

 - John Mayer (21st century manwhore)

I am not a cynic; I believe that most people have good intentions, I rarely suspect hidden agendas, and just generally like & trust people. Thatbeingsaid - in a totally noncynical way - I do believe there is truth to the above song lyrics. I am not immune to the temperature drop being some sort of catalyst towards a relationship; though, in no way am I trying to cheapen my relationship with Apt F by implying that we are only together for the sake of not being sans a New Years kiss - but I do think that the upcoming holidays definitely play some sort of unconscious roll in any two people getting together.

Like ice skating. Or sequins.

Everybody knows relationships are a Winter Sport.*

*you know it, I know it,

& John Mayer knows it.

This is not my point. It's - in fact - more of a Preffixual Sidenote (not a real thing*).

*well, now it is.

It's just that its fully Fall, and nearing Winter which means, as I realized yesterday - one third of the way into November - that it is almost Thanksgiving. I could almost taste the sweet potatoes, the creamed onions my Ex's mom makes every year, the pea & pimento salad my mother makes every year...
And then I realized I will be alone for Thanksgiving.
Being a single Shopgirl five hundred miles away from my hometown - it's kind of an either/or situation with Thanksgiving & Christmas - and this year I chose to take Christmas off. For the first time in six Christmases, I will be boarding a plane to Northern California to spend the holiday with my family. Last year was the first time I spent Thanksgiving with them in five years, and I spent last Christmas down here (and the four prior), with my Mom at my Ex's parents house.
I came to this realization & sort of panicked. Okay, more than sort of. I'll be working the day before and the day after - but what about Thanksgiving Day itself? I have talked to a girlfriend about spending it together, but we haven't followed up on that since like August.
And I know that my neighbor is going to his Dad's for Thanksgiving; which lead to my next panic jumble of thoughts:

Oh my god, at some point... if all goes well...I will one day meet his parents. Obviously not on Thanksgiving - far too soon. Far too important of a holiday. I'd rather sit at home watching old movies and eating yams getting drunk off spiced rum by myself than deal with that pressure. Funny Girl, anyone?

And then, the next thing you know, my mind was racing. This isn't just an 'eight dates & move on while still playing the feild/winter sporting event' relationship. I committed to a real attempt at something. Which means, not only will at some point will I meet his parents, if I have a Boyfriend... which I do;

Oh my God - Christmas gifts.
Oh my God - fights.
Oh my God - at some point we're going to disagree on something.
Oh my God - at some point he's going to find me acting irrational. (Oh, wait - beentheredonethat.)
Oh my God - miscommunication.
Oh my God - He'll introduce me as his Girlfriend.
Oh my God - the expectation of communication.
But, Oh my God - the at some point it's going to get Real.

Real.
You know that thing that I have avoided like the bubonic plague for over a year now?
Yeah, that.

So, a couple nights ago, we were laying together watching the food channel, & it was making me hungry for a real home cooked meal. I used to make dinner every night in my 'past life', but as I have spent most of my free evenings this year on different patios or 'baking' Lean Cuisines in my oven, I have only really had a handful of home cooked meals in the same amount of time, so I said rather benignly, without thinking,

We should cook dinner together one of these nights. I can cook, ya know.

Right now, we're just starting to find our footing as a couple; niether of us were expecting this, and we're slowly feeling eachother out, making sure we're both on the same page. But last night he brought up making dinner again - I think he has lacked homecookin' in his life lately too - so, I pulled out my binder of recipes that I have collected over the years & told him to pick something. He leafed through the three dozen or so laminated pages filed under 'entrees' finally deciding on a hearty chicken, tomato & mushroom recipe. As he made his decision, he said,

This'll be nice. It'll be our first...

...and he trailed off, not finishing his sentence as he looked as my face.

Now I felt exactly what my face was doing as a physical reaction to his words; I must have looked like I was having a seizure, or fighting Tourette's, as my brain finished his sentence. The word 'domestic' popped into my head, along with the peppery aftertaste of the dish he picked in my mouth. I have made that chicken dish probably fifty times, it was my Ex's favorite. I haven't opened that homemade cookbook since we broke up, haven't even looked at it; and now here I am, over a year later tasting every recipe I see - they're as familiar as Thanksgiving sweet potato pie - while I imagine preparing each one. Like a muscle memory, I remember exactly how it felt to make them in my old kitchen, I don't even need the recipes for some. Here I am, reading the 'add garlic' & 'less onion' notes I carefully handwrote on the margins. Here I am, planning on using those same forgotten handwritten notes to make dinner for someone else. For someone else. Not my Ex-Boyfriend, but my Boyfriend.
It got Real.
I am really in it; a committed relationship with the expectation of progression.
This'll be the first time.. with the implied ...of many? as a couple? we make dinner together?
He looked at me after watching my face spasm - me, transparent as always, and said sweetly,

It's okay. I'm weird too. And yes, I mean in the same way you're weird.

But I had forgotten the cooking dinners together, birthday gifts, friend's potlucks, double dates, me occasionally asking people, 'Is it okay if my Boyfriend comes or is it just a girls' thing?' All that stuff that goes along with a Real Relationship.

I had forgotten all of this.
Like the suprise of cold night air in November.
Like the surprise of Thanksgiving right around the corner.
How is it that we are shocked by the changing of the seasons, time and time again?
How is it that we are shocked by change, time and time again?
How is it that I have forgetten so much, yet remember it so well?

Sidenotes: Imagine my shock when - as I was typing these very words - that at this age, I had forgotten that agreeing to be in a committed relationship with someone essentially means that we are agreeing to see if we fall in love with each other.
Even more shocking was when my girlfriend asked, as girlfriends always do - if I could see myself marrying him (we are so predictable) that my immediate reaction was well, that face I made last night and then 'well... I wouldn't be wasting my time if...' Oh good lord.
I emailed my mother the one cute picture I have of me and him. She told me two days later, very earnestly, that she had printed it out and put it on display. We've been dating five days. Even weirder, I then told my neighbor she did this. Followed by, 'Why do I feel the need to tell you everything?!'

Edits: This is the recipe he chose. Thanks Martha! That & I do actually have somewhere to spend Thanksgiving.