As a child, seeing parts of the house get cleaned up for the first time that year (ok, maybe the first time ever).
Watching my mother make a gravy from all-purpose flour infested with ants.
A couple of hours later, watching my relatives smother their turkey with gravy that happens to have a lot of little cooked ants floating around in it (cooked ants look a little bit like black pepper).
About 30 seconds later, "Ahhh, no thanks, I think I'll pass on the gravy."
A number of years later, watching my mother die.
Here it is, the day my mother died, and my Aunt Ruth is insisting that we put the plates in the oven to warm them up before dinner.
A couple of years after my mother died, standing in the kitchen of my Aunt Louise's house, watching her make homemade sourdough bread effortlessly while her husband psychologically abuses her from the living room.
A decade later, spendng Thanksgiving in a Buddhist monatery.
Just a year later, enjoying Thanksgiving with my West Coast "family." Insisting that my friend hold up the Tofurkey with a proud look so that I can get a picture of him. Breaking the tofu wishbone with my other family member.
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