TURKEY

It occurred to me that I would be preparing a turkey in my late mother's oven for the first time.
I turned on the upper oven. She would have used the lower one, but it's on the blink.
I took the turkey out of the wrapper. It's huge. I looked for the biggest pot and pan. Fortunately the baking pan that lives in the upper oven was perfect. I looked in the cabinet at all of the spices. Sea salt, pepper, Tony Chachere's creole seasoning, paprika...I started isolating what I would use. I even thought about frying it. I thought I could go out on the patio, and fire up the grill. How ambitious. I knew those options were just thoughts. What if I cut it into parts? Naaah. Leave it whole. Bake it--and plan not to go anywhere.
I washed it, took out the innards and the neck. (I laughed to myself when I recalled the year we went to a family friend's house. My dad was given the honor of carving the turkey when we all heard something like the rattling of paper as the knife went deeper. The host had neglected to take out the innards. She said she didn't know they were in there. No one was anxious to eat turkey after that. Innards still intact in the wax paper bag inside a cooked turkey only meant one thing--the turkey hadn't been washed. )
I combined all of the seasonings and rubbed them into the skin. I washed the neck, gizzards, heart, and liver and put them into a pot. (Gotta make gravy) I took out the frozen peppers and onions--and the onion and garlic powder. Then I saw the rubbed sage. What the heck.
I lined the pan, stuffed the bird with the frozen veggies and celery stalks, cradled it in a gob of aluminum foil, and placed it into the oven...and was sure I'd forgotten something.
Oh yeah. Dilute some clorox in a spray bottle and clean the faucet, counter top, sink, refrigerator door handles and cabinet knobs...anywhere some uncooked turkey juice may have landed. Mommy would have done that.
I miss my mom.