Thanksgiving

My thanksgiving's tend to follow the same pattern: my mom and grandmother cook, I bake, my little sister hides in her room and reads, and the rest of the adults sit around and talk. Some people have huge thanksgivings and need dozens of plates and multiple tables. My family is small: I do not have many cousins (only one, in fact, and he lives in California), not do I have many aunts or uncles. Our Thanksgivings have always been small (only 8 to 12 people), so we do not have much variety in location. There is not much variation in the meal, either. Stuffing, turkey, ham, broccoli casserole, rolls, cranberry sauce, gravy, and pies are spread across a table, and we serve ourselves buffet-style. At the table, the conversation dwindles as our appetites are satisfied. After the dinner, we watch home movies and swap stories. One thanksgiving I remember as being different is that of 2009. It was four o'clock, everything was set up, and all the food was almost ready. Well, almost. The turkey was the exception. My uncle, Kevin, had gotten a large turkey, and was attempting to smoke it, but there was one problem... The smoker was smaller than the turkey! We were resolved to wait until the turkey had finished, but by six, our hunger took precedence over the turkey, and we ate without our centerpiece. My uncle continued to tend the turkey, and as we were settling down for bed at eleven o'clock that night, we heard him whooping outside. Curious, we congregated in the kitchen. The door suddenly opened wide, and my uncle walked in with a smile on his face, and his giant turkey on a platter, ready to be carved. My grandfather did the carving, and by 11:30 p.m., we all had a plate full of turkey. While the bird was a little late, it was definitely worth the wait, for it was the best turkey I could remember tasting in my whole life. My uncle, however, was not satisfied, and the very next day, he went and bought a larger smoker for next year's turkey.