by Kelly Trickett

Created on: November 06, 2008   Last Updated: February 18, 2012

True Thankfulness

John walked into the family dining room. It had been 10 years since the last time he was home, and he wasn't really sure why he came back now. The faded carpets, chipped furniture, and slanting floors-it was all just as he remembered from childhood, except maybe a little more worn down. His mother had called, begging him to come home for just this one Thanksgiving.

"We have so much to be thankful for this year, John," his mother had said. "It would mean the world to us if you could stop by and share it with us."

John looked around. What good fortune could they have possibly have had this year? Everything looked poorer and tattier. On the dining room table, there was no stuffed turkey, only a chicken. No big layout of food here: just some canned corn, green beans, the chicken, and homemade biscuits.

"What, Mom, no turkey?" John asked her.

"Well, they had a few layoffs and hour reductions at the factory, John. Chicken is just as well, don't you think? I am so glad you are home to help us celebrate all the blessings we have had this year!"

Woman must be getting senile, John thought. Layoffs and hour reductions did not belong in the same conversation with blessings and good fortune. I won't hurt her feelings by leaving, but right after the pie, I am out of here. If there IS pie, which I now highly doubt.

"So, Mom, when does this grand Thanksgiving dinner actually begin?" John asked sarcastically.

"We are just waiting for your father to get back from helping serve at the homeless shelter. He should be coming anytime now, John. Just be patient, I beg you. Why don't you go for a short walk around the old neighborhood, see if anything's different than you remember?"

John wasn't particularly thrilled with the idea, but the house was bringing back all the old desires, the yearning for a better life, the feeling like the poverty would make you choke. If he didn't get out for a breath, he doubted he'd be able to stay at all.

"Sure, Mom. Back in a jiffy"

Of course, walking around the block, not much had changed; not that he had expected it to. Poor neighborhoods only got poorer, it seemed. The block was a small one, and as there was no one in this sorry neighborhood John had any desire to reconnect to, the walk was an extremely short one. Still, by the time he headed back up the battered and patched street to his parent's driveway, he saw his father going in through the front door. Thank God, John thought. Let's get this over with.

As he headed toward

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