Student Publishing Program ::

Robert McDonnell

Thanksgiving Dinner

Smells of an array of pies teasing my senses,
As I walk into the kitchen I feel the heat of two ovens, steadily cooking our tender roast and
       sweet pies, were heating the cramped cooking space dramatically.
The steaming pot of boiling potato chunks were soon to be pulverized into mashed potatoes,
I watch as my dad tenderly and thoroughly cleans the potatoes, as if they were his prized
       possession.
Then, he betrays them by scraping the tough skin off, exposing the sweet meat of the
       vegetable
He chops and dices them with such focused precision.
I turn my gaze to my mom, who is frantically setting the table with napkins a shade of green
       that can only be achieved after many years of aging in a dusty little drawer.
She insists that I help her in these duties.
I set the table with an almost obsessive precision that is only achieved with a focused
       fastidiousness,
Fork on the left, knife on the right, also on the right is the spoon, lastly a napkin under the
       newly placed knife and spoon,
After I finish the placement of the silverware, my mom tenderly places the ‘Special
       Occasion’ plates at each seat with the matching bowls,
These plates have a delicate, navy blue wave - like design printed around the exterior.
The time passes quickly while I work,
I sat at the dinner table with all four members of my family, my dad at the left end my mom
       at the right end.
They remind me of a king and queen at the royal table; my sister and I accompany them as
       their loyal subjects.
My dad skips grace, but makes a lengthy speech about how lucky we are to live the kind of
       life we lead.
We disregard this prolonged sermon, eyeing the generous platters of food while he continues
       to ramble, but,
Detecting our impatience, he concludes his lecture thereby allowing us to engorge ourselves
       with the abundance of food in front of us.

[TABLE OF CONTENTS, LHS CLASS OF 2009 EDITION]