by Miranda Pearce
Red, orange, yellow, and brown is all over the place.
The cold air sends a chill down my spine. Leaves drifting from the trees, fighting not to fall. It’s almost like they are saying, please, no, don’t let me fall, to the other leaves still attached on the tree.
I catch one while it’s falling and it crumples and seeps through the cracks of my fingers, leaving bits and pieces in my hand.
Every leaf looks like a child colored on them.
I see the mums and the corn stalks on my steps leading to the front door. I hear the sticks and leaves crack and I know that the deer and the squirrels are out to play.
As soon as I open the door the overpowering smell of pumpkin pie and apple harvest candles fill my body each and every time I breathe in. When I step into the dining room I come to see the surprise of my family already gathered with empty hands and hungry stomachs.
The food is served.
Platters with mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, (pretty much any Thanksgiving food you can think of) and of course the turkey, cover the table from edge to edge.
All of the food is so overwhelming I don’t know what to put on my plate first.
I pack my plate with food until it starts overflowing. I pile my fork high with turkey, stuffing, and corn. I manage to get all of it in my mouth without anything falling off my fork.
My eyes light up because of the symphony of all the flavors in my mouth. I sit there looking around listening to all the conversations and loud laughs, and I think to myself, “It’s Thanksgiving.”