...after you've been in an oven for five hours and your flesh has been devoured by a half dozen predators to your kind. Poor turkey being put away for storage.
It's Thanksgiving, and I am finally at my house for the first time in three years for the holiday. It's strange to be back, but Thanksgiving is one of the few holidays I enjoy. I don't enjoy it because of the parades (don't watch 'em), or the specials (March of the Wooden Soldiers never really interested me, but even that was canceled this year for football), or even the food (which is awesome for the first 20 minutes). Thanksgiving is one of the rare times my family acts civil with one another, and for this I couldn't be more grateful.
I don't much care that it celebrates when European settlers took advantage of native peoples, as they did in nearly every place they visited. I don't care that it is a day of mass genocide for turkeys, especially since they are specifically raised for this purpose and can no longer live in the wild on their own. I don't care about the looming destruction and economic stroke that will ensue tomorrow. All that matters to me is that my family finally worked like one that functions. I spent the day with my loved ones, and they acted like ones I should love. That's something worth celebrating.
That's what I'm thankful for. That's all for today. Happy Thanksgiving.
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