The day has arrived. You wake up and it is Thanksgiving–easily one of your favorite days of the year.
You watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade and sing along to every song you know. You cry nostalgic tears when you see the Snoopy float because you’ve seen it basically every Thanksgiving of your entire life. You impatiently await Santa’s arrival, which is naturally the best part of the parade.
Next is the National Dog Show and you watch this with just as much enthusiasm, because honestly, who doesn’t like puppies? Naturally, you make a fuss over each one and cry about how much you want a pet.
Follow it up with some football. There’s that whole male bonding thing. Plus, is there a better way to lead up to a feast than by lounging around all day? Thanksgiving should be a day of relaxation.
The doorbell rings. You had forgotten the family is coming over. They have all arrived. Aunt Judy and her smelly new boyfriend, cousin Ashley, her hushand, and their screeching newborn twins, Great Uncle Pete who can’t hear conversations unless they’re yelled and Grandma Nancy, who refuses to talk about anything other than why you don’t have a boyfriend.
Your mom starts frantically searching the kitchen for her favorite bottle of wine because how else will she get through the evening? The turkey isn’t even finished cooking yet. You hear the bottle of wine being opened from the other room, naturally, and wander in because it is absolutely necessary that she shares.
You offer to help your mom finish cooking as you whisper to her, “the sooner we feed them, the sooner they’ll leave.” Nice thinking.
Dinner is served. Grandma Nancy begins her cross-examination. It begins simply with, “so, how’s school going?” Not too bad, you can handle this.
But then the conversation moves to, “How are the boys in Boone? Are they treating you alright? Any boyfriends yet? When am I getting my next grandbaby?”You’re about ready to choke yourself on the wishbone.
And speaking of wishbones, Aunt Judy’s boyfriend has started to argue with your brother about who deserves it to break it.
You successfully manage to not throw the gravy boat at any of your relatives throughout the rest of dinner, and this is a major accomplishment for you. It took every ounce of your willpower to not hurl it at somebody’s head.
It’s time for dessert and, can you believe it, your excitment from the beginning of the day returns. Something you did not think would be possible with the distinct background noise of your cousin’s babies crying. It’s just you and your dessert and all will be well. You eye the pies as they’re being set on the table.
Everybody scarfs dessert down and your mom politely ushers everybody out the front door. It’s something she has mastered as an art form. This year’s Thanksgiving was successful enough, and certainly delicious.
And then the realization comes that Thanksgiving won’t come again until next year.
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