Thanksgiving dinner was like a fierce battlefield this year. The towering pearly white platters full of fantastic fresh fragrances that entered everyone’s noses as soon as he walked in the newly decorated house. When it was finally time to eat the war began.

Anxious hands began grabbing, reaching, and fighting for their favorite foods. A long crystallized platter covered with the freshly carved bird was in the middle of the cold, hard, granite counter top. Surrounding the main course were many appetizing entrees and side dishes: fluffy white clouds of mashed potatoes that melted as they hit the tongue, crispy brown biscuits, mounds of assorted succulent steamed vegetables; stuffing filled with the left over tastes of the turkey still lingering, and the mouth watering home made tray of lasagna.

Hungry mouths chomped down on their meals; people fought the hopeless fight of trying to finish everything. The sounds of buttons popping rushed to the ears as one by one people began to finish the array of foods. The elegant white plates began to pile up with a loud clanking sound during the sink’s busiest day of the year. Everyone’s stomach seemed thoroughly satisfied, but it didn’t end there.

The various decadent desserts began to appear on the table. Everyone’s eyes lit up like the fourth of July. My mom’s famous pudding pie, a beautiful display of Italian pastries, and the fudge filled brownies from heaven. Each one seemed like the right choice and each one was as delicious as the next, so there was no shame in trying them all. Again the endless war started until each and every person was satisfied.