See, every year we host Thanksgiving brunch.
It started the year we had the boys because they weren't really supposed to go anywhere that winter due to their fragile immune systems. Having no interest in learning to make a turkey, I chose brunch so that I could make pumpkin pancakes. Six years later, they continue to be hit and we've got ourselves a full-blown tradition.
So every year I imagine all of us sitting down and contentedly going around the table with each guest saying what they are thankful for. Everyone will say something deep and meaningful, the boys will provide heart-warming comic relief, and then I will say something so poetic that it brings everyone to tears...and then the credits on our Lifetime movie roll.
We've never done anything remotely close to this, of course. I don't even think we've ever made any kind of a toast...in fact, there really isn't even a "Thanks for coming! Let's eat!" I'm lucky if I can get both sides of the family to make chit-chat (my mom would prefer to read the newspaper than speak to anyone), let alone reveal a small piece of their souls. Still, it's nice to imagine it. And, hey, if it ever happens, my moving speech about love and togetherness will be prepared.
Wait, no it won't.
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