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The room is in the center of the house, the turkey is in the center of the table, the dinner is in the center of minds, and the hunger is in the center of stomachs. The simple chandelier hangs high above the middle and radiates its light to all parts of the table, enhancing the enormity of the feast. The six wooden chairs have swirls and complex designs precisely carved into the armrests. The napkins are rich dark green linen fit for fine festive dining. The silverware is placed on top of the napkin so as not to touch the autumn-themed tablecloth, with embroidery on its edges. Porcelain china sits in the well-lit display case adjacent to the table, disguising the plain wall. The scent of warm, fresh biscuits fills the entire house, along with other smells; for example, cooked turkey, homemade stuffing, and steamed vegetables. Although the dinner is not yet ready, everyone creeps curiously into the kitchen, the source of the hauntingly amazing aroma. When the turkey is ready, everything else in the room seems to finish shortly after.

Dad is the carver of the turkey, and as he takes his large, sharp, shiny knife, everyone around stares anxiously at him as he slices the turkey. He cuts it so that each slice is so thin it is almost transparent. Onto the curved serving platter the turkey goes, and as it moves toward the dining room, the future consumers of it follow closely behind, with wide eyes and excited taste buds. Mom prepares the rest of the feast: juicy, fresh corn; creamy, milky white, whipped mashed potatoes ready for a bath of gravy; salted string beans; homemade stuffing with breadcrumbs, celery, and other delicious foodstuffs; tangy, deep red, cranberry sauce; and warm, fluffy, buttery biscuits. Thanks are said, and as everyone helps himself to this and that, nothing can be heard but the cling and clang of silverware meeting serving dished and plates. Although so much of the food has been devoured by hungry family members, there is still a significant amount of leftovers; in other words, dinner for the next two days. Such little time has gone by, and everyone is upset at how small his stomach is.

After about an hour for our puny stomachs to digest the dinner, dessert is prepared. All it takes is the opening of a few plain white boxes and ugly Tupperware containers, but what is inside is quite beautiful and elegant. A million desserts can be found on the table on Thanksgiving: apple pie, chocolate pudding pie, lemon poppy cake, rainbow cookies, chocolate chip cookies, and vanilla ice cream. For toppings, mom makes a sweet homemade whipped cream, which covers each pie like a white fluffy blanket. Each dessert is divided and served on small, round, white plates with an interesting texture around the edge. As with dinner, all that can be heard for the first two or three minutes is the cling and clang of forks and spoons on plates. With the conclusion of dessert, everyone is satisfied with the day’s food intake. Just because the food is done, Thanksgiving has not yet ended. Everyone around the table shares stories and comments on the delicious food that remains in his stomach. Until fatigue starts to set in, that Thanksgiving stays in the minds of all the satisfied people, those who are thankful for the opportunity to have a feast such as this.





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