Writing Prompt: Tell us a story about Thanksgiving.
the ghost of thanksgivings past by Sarah D.
long winding roads through the trees
up to the little blue house on the hill,
crunching gravel steps up to the porch,
always so much warmer once inside.
smells of turkey,
stuffing and mashed potatoes,
uncle mark making a salad in the kitchen,
the wood stove making us sweat.
james taylor’s voice drifting out of the speakers,
we all sing along cause we all know the words,
aunt diane’s house always smells like tea
herbs, and food,
it always felt like home.
we bring out the good china,
the kids set the table,
sparkling apple juice in wine glasses,
a warm glow
and everything sparkles.
brothers tease, and cousins laugh,
nana and gramps sit together,
love for over 60 years now
with dogs and cats at their feet.
uncle rick makes a toast,
we say what we are thankful for,
someone makes a joke
cause that’s what we do,
but the words of love and thanks
are taken to heart.
and just like every other family,
we eat until we are stuffed,
laughing till our bellies hurt,
smiling till our cheeks were sore,
in the warm light
as darkness falls around us
on the mountain.
it is these days i miss.
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