It is warm. There is love flowing through all the rooms. There is happiness. My father always cuts the turkey. The men or boys that are not in the game at the time stand around him and talk in hopes of a first taste.....My dad will arrange the slices in a fan and then garnishes the plate with oranges, green and red cranberries.
It is always beautiful.
This thought hit me the other day in the shower:
Who is going to cut the turkey?
How can anyone do it the way he did?
Now I miss him more then ever.
Maybe I am a delayed reactor.........and just really S-L-O-W
Stupid Thanks Giving....Stupid Turkey