The Halloween decor had been taken down, tossed back in the storage boxes and stored away for the next year. The calendar page had been flipped. The new page had read “November.”
The family, eagerly awaiting to eat, sat down at the dinner table. The mother, who had been cooking, opened the stove. A familiar scent filled the room as she took the giant and plump turkey out of the piping hot oven. Placed on the table under the lamp, the turkey beamed with light, making the desire to eat too much to handle!
As the other delectable foods, spices and sides were placed, the children slammed their knives and forks onto the table, growing impatient. The father sipped his coffee, motioning for them to settle down. The mother said the words they all knew too well, as it had been said every November: “It’s time to eat!”
Just then, the front door opened, and the grandfather walked in. He walked all the way to the table, his face giving off a sour and confused expression. “What’s wrong, Grandpa?” asked the children. “You look like someone covered your car in snow,” chuckled the father. The mother only smiled.
“For the thirty-fifth time, Margaret!” shouted the grandfather to the mother. “It is not Thanksgiving yet!”
