Years ago, I lived in Parkersburg, W.Va. on a mountain. My father lived a few miles from me. It was always important for us to spend as much time together as we could. You see my father was very alone. My mother died many years earlier. But my father would not leave the home place. He promised momma that he would meet her one day in Heaven. With that thought in mind he just pressed on daily with the chores of feeding the one big Turkey he prised so much. “Tommy” was his name. Every day my father would feed the turkey right at the same time of day and just fuss with him as though they were long life friends. Tommy, would just raise his huge head and neck in the air and squak a message that only he and my father really understood. I have watched the ritual so many times and never understood what they say to each other. It was always so definate and almost as though Tommy was saying , “Thank you”, to my father everytime he fed him.
It was the night before Thanksgiving when I decided to go to my father’s house a little farther up he mountain than my house was. I got into my jeep, and began to realize that he had not seen my little dog, GIGI, in a while. So I reached down and put her gently into the jeep for a short ride with me to my father’s house. Off we went in the deep, heavy, cold snow. It was only about four miles to his house. I guess I had not listened to the weather forecast that day as I had been busy making the “Turkey Dinner”,for Thanksgiving.” This snow is really blowing I exclaimed,” to Gigi. I just sighed to myself as I thought,”how silly am I talking to a little dog who weighs no more than 2 pounds.” Soon the storm was blinding and I could not see the road and felt the front tires of the jeep as we carrened down the embankment. Gigi was being thrown all around as I was screaming and trying to keep the the stearing wheel in line . Tree limbs were slapping all over the vehicle, snow was flying all around us, not to mention the glass and dirt which was covering me all over as we rolled and tumbled and tumbled down the leveine.
“I am so cold,” I mumbled to myself. Where is Gigi? I could not move, my body was pinned in the vehicle. My head was bleeding as I went in and of consienceousness. My only thougt was now I will freeze to death without anyone knowing. I just layed there and went to sleep. Hours passed. It was very dark. The snow kept falling. In the distance, I heard what I thought was
Gigi. She would bark her shrill little bark. I listened hard. It was her, she had gotten thrown from the Jeep as it began to roll. I called to her and then came a noise that was familiar to me, but yet it was not, as I lay there in the dark. Gobble,Gobble, then schreecheowwww. Oh my goodness, that was “Tommy”, my father’s pet turkey. I raised my head a little higher and I could see my father’s headlights, as “Old Tommy”, perched proudly on the top corner of the mangled jeep. He began to schreech that old familiar noise as my father made his way down to me. “Gigi and Tommy had led my father to me.” I guess I can say after that night, I fully understand eveything Gigi and Tommy say to me. Now I pay a lot closer attention to them.
We all enjoyed a wonderful Thanksgiving Day Dinner. I might add, we don’t eat Turkey any
more either. We stick to vegetables and other items. Thanks to my dear friends and family,
“Tommy the Turkey and to Gigi,” they are my favorite friends for life.
