I wake up, look at my phone, and realize today’s the big day. I become as excited as a dog about to walk, and run downstairs. Today’s a cause for celebration. It is Thanksgiving.

“You ready to eat 30 pounds of food?” My brother asks sarcastically. Despite the snarkiness, there is a slight truth to his question.

In my family, I am known to eat as much on Thanksgiving as an entire country eats in a decade. I don’t eat until dinner— then I eat more food than the rest of the family combined.

The dish I look forward to the most is the salty, succulent, savory bacon wrapped stuffing. My mom makes a majority of the annual Thanksgiving meal, but I specifically ask for this dish every year.

Everything about bacon wrapped stuffing is perfect. Whether focusing on the crackling, crispy skin or its soft, savory interior, it’s perfection. It’s yin and yang; two different things, coming together in perfect harmony.

My mom spent hours experimenting items to pair with stuffing, and bacon ended up being the winner in the race to create the best-tasting appetizer in the world.

Similar to how a hawk spies on its prey, I spy her and my grandma making food to make sure I am the first one to get the opportunity to pounce.

Every Thanksgiving morning starts the same, me running down the stairs like Usain Bolt. Everyone thinks I do it for purely the Thanksgiving food, which is partially true. I also enjoy sitting around the table with family I only see three times a year, chatting about the football game on TV and whatever is on our minds. But most importantly, I sprint to get ready every morning for the sole best thing about Thanksgiving: the bacon wrapped stuffing.