Thanksgiving...
Feels like feet pacing across the floor impatiently, in anticipation of the day to come, like a cold nose, and air, cool, crisp, and invigorating, then like the warmth of my Grandma's house in contrast, taking my breath away, and her arms wrapped around me so tightly in welcome, squeezing the life out of me as I patiently endure, finally wiggling until she gives me release, grabbing on to my hand in one last attempt to secure me...
Looks like the painted, red fence behind my Grandma's house, with falling leaves covering the ground,
Smells like a smoking chimney, and the earthiness of decaying leaves, scattered across the ground,
Sounds like the creaking door of my Daddy's orange, Chevrolet truck, and its engine, pressing dutifully to our destination, and like crackling leaves, crunched by little feet and shouts and laughter as I run and play with my brother and cousins in Grandma's back yard,
And tastes like appetizer burgers and fries from McDonald's, as lunch is running late, and later like veggies piled high upon my plate in my typical effort to please, bitter to my inexperienced taste buds, followed by chocolate pie, bought the previous day at Wilson's Market.
Feels like feet pacing across the floor impatiently, in anticipation of the day to come, like a cold nose, and air, cool, crisp, and invigorating, then like the warmth of my Grandma's house in contrast, taking my breath away, and her arms wrapped around me so tightly in welcome, squeezing the life out of me as I patiently endure, finally wiggling until she gives me release, grabbing on to my hand in one last attempt to secure me...
Looks like the painted, red fence behind my Grandma's house, with falling leaves covering the ground,
Smells like a smoking chimney, and the earthiness of decaying leaves, scattered across the ground,
Sounds like the creaking door of my Daddy's orange, Chevrolet truck, and its engine, pressing dutifully to our destination, and like crackling leaves, crunched by little feet and shouts and laughter as I run and play with my brother and cousins in Grandma's back yard,
And tastes like appetizer burgers and fries from McDonald's, as lunch is running late, and later like veggies piled high upon my plate in my typical effort to please, bitter to my inexperienced taste buds, followed by chocolate pie, bought the previous day at Wilson's Market.
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