As sad as it is to admit, I can confidently say that a large majority of my family is either terminally ill, in prison, broke, or living their lives in the lap of luxury on the West Coast. I would be lying to myself if I said I didn’t get a bit glum around certain holidays, such as Christmas or Thanksgiving, when my friends all talk about how they need to set up an extra table to fit all their aunts and uncles coming in from Virginia and Ohio or Florida and Colorado. Of course, it’s not that I don’t love the family I do get to see. It’s more like I see the same exact people every single second of every single day of every single year, and being a slightly poor seven-person family living with four needy children, things can get a bit stressful. For whatever reason, this Thanksgiving was different.
My sister Samantha is a 22-year-old Ball State graduate who just came back to live with us again this past month. Although I still don’t really get to see her that much, since we have such busy schedules, it is nice to have her back. She has been dating her boyfriend Connor for about a year and a half now, so obviously we spent this Thanksgiving with him too. Since they were the only “guests” we were having, we only had to move my two younger brothers to our breakfast bar, and everyone else fit comfortably at our small kitchen table.
From the get go, everything was slightly off this year. My mom started cooking too early, and the turkey that my dad got for free for working at Costco was like the size of someone’s overweight pet parakeet. Not to mention Connor was watching football by himself while my brothers played video games, my grandma did laundry, and my sister and I sat on our phones. I had been receiving texts all morning from my friends, and the notifications were bugging me while I was swiping through my Instagram feed, so my fingers unconsciously swept through a lot of the notifications without my reading them. This distant dynamic went on for a while, until eventually the food was done. I also should mention that lunch was ready at one, and we had just eaten breakfast at around ten, so to top off the good fortune, no one was hungry. The mashed potatoes had somehow turned brown, our sweet potato casserole was miraculously saltier than sweet, and the most flavorful thing on the table was a basket of frozen dinner rolls that we thawed out from the leftover heat of the turkey in the oven.









