Lighting the candles instead of switching on the chandelier’s light, Siobhan stepped back to survey the table. Even in the Depression, she set a magnificent table.
By tradition, Siobhan sat at the end closest to the kitchen while her brother Collin, titular head of the family, sat at the far end, closest to the turkey and carving knife. Patrick sat on her right, Mother Limerick on her left. Agnes sat between Patrick and her uncle. Three empty chairs had been removed to the far corner of the room. Perhaps next year, they could afford to invite her sisters-in-law from the convent.
“Patrick, dear, why don’t you and Agnes switch places? She’s left-handed, you know, and it’s always best for her to sit on the left,” suggested Siobhan.
Her brother rolled his eyes. “Twenty years old and she still writes with her left hand. What did they ever teach you at St. Patrick’s School, Agnes?”
“As you well know, we could never get Agnes to write with her right like everyone else,” Uncle Collin answered. “I personally tutored and she would not budge."
“She’s always been a disobedient child, this one,” Siobhan answered, “but that’s our Agnes. Always has to be different.”
“Mama, please, you know I can’t write with my right hand. You’re embarrassing me, just like when you tell people about me being born with patches of carrot hair. I’m perfectly happy sitting next to Uncle Collin.”
Mother Limerick gave Agnes a wink of encouragement from across the table. “It’s all right, pumpkin, I love you, left or right.”
They started passing the turkey, vegetable platters, and cranberry relishes across the table, volleying conversations on school and religion across the table at the same time. Agnes passed the vegetable dish to her mother.
“Uncle Collin,” said Agnes, winking back at her grandmother during a rare lull in the conversation. “Would you pass the mashed potatoes, please? I’m over here on Mama’s left.”
Collin snorted. “Of course, child, and don’t be impertinent. Mind you don’t eat all of the potatoes. There might be less this year, but we can share what we do have.”
“I didn’t mean to be impertinent, Uncle Collin. I’m just hungry and felt left out.”
What to do with this child, Siobhan asked herself – always has to be different.
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