It was my first Thanksgiving after my mom moved out and I was all about cooking up a great meal. I was 16 years old at the time.
We were just going to have a small dinner, my dad, my brother and myself. I’d been to the grocery story and bought all the ingredients to make the most fabulous first Thanksgiving dinner that anyone could. The plans were all made and we decided that noon would be a good time to have the dinner.
So that morning, about 9, eager with excitement and anticipation of cooking my first holiday meal, I reached into the freezer to pull out the turkey to thaw.
When I was little, I remember playing “slug bug no slug back” every time I saw a Volkswagen bug.
It was a great opportunity to punch one my brothers in the arm. Of course, if I didn’t see it first, I was on the receiving end of the slug. This was the one time my brothers didn’t obey the “don’t hit girls” rule.
Editor’s note: The following article is about the loss of my mother and aunt
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