The unlucky hunters from the morning’s hunt who staggered home empty handed strike out again for the afternoon, while the lucky SOB who brought home a one-horned spike unbuckles his belt for an afternoon nap, feeling satisfied that he and he alone brought home a deer. As the standers settle in for their afternoon hunt, they feel a sudden calm come over them. Soon, they’re in a triptophan-induced coma from the turkey they devoured at lunch. Grandmothers and Moms clean up the kitchen and prepare for the second round of meals while the kids play a game of what started out as touch football, but now has turned into “kill the man with the ball.” There’s something about Thanksgiving afternoon—when the sun is just about to set and the wind has settled to almost nothing—that makes a person really start to think how blessed they truly have been that year.

As the hunter slowly awakes from his afternoon slumber, he watches as a doe and her two fawns graze on corn and winter wheat. As light fades, so does another year of the hunter’s slim hopes of bringing home “ole big” to the family on Thanksgiving. Upon arriving at the dinner site, the question is asked to the hunter: “Well, did you get one?”

The cooks take time out to flash their beautiful smiles during Thanksgiving lunch. There are four generations in this picture, a feat for any family to be proud of.

“Naw—saw the same ol’ buck I saw this mornin’ but I didn’t want to get dirty before dinner.” The same song and dance from that morning’s hunt plays out once again that evening, but it’s overlooked, again, because it’s Thanksgiving. The once hungry family members now only pick at their leftover food from lunch. They eat Aunt Vonda’s dressing out of respect for her and because she’s their grandmother’s sister, but that doesn’t help the fact it goes down like 80 grit sand paper. The Cowboys are playing the evening game against the Raiders and everyone remarks about how JaMarcus Russell just isn’t the same quarterback he was at LSU. After everyone has made the rounds though the buffet line, the ladies start to hassle the men about what’s left: “Leroy, I made this pie special for you and now you ain’t even gonna eat it?”

“Alma, I ate three pieces already, whatcha want me to do?” Ah, the joyful sounds of a family get together. How they forever ring in the ears of those in attendance.

As you make it to your home and tuck your kids into bed, the day starts to wear on you. The feeling of exhaustion hangs on your shoulders like a cheap dime-store coat. It takes every fiber of your being just to make it to the bed. The last few minutes of consciousness finds you remising upon the day’s events and a smile crosses your face when you think about how good it was. My last Thanksgiving ended almost like that, but instead of a smile it was a tear. We lost my grandmother in April of last year and the holidays just aren’t the same without her. She was a true Southern Belle, floating into a room like an angel but never leaving you wondering who she was. She taught me to be proud of my work and to never settle for less than I deserve. I would give anything for another holiday with her. This Thanksgiving, please remember what the day is really about: giving thanks for your health, blessings upon the year, and sharing time with your family. If you have a family member whose time is drawing near, please savor every moment that God gives you with them. Once they have left this earth, you can’t bring them back.