Spring 2008
Thanksgiving Day
Written by Barbara Vesey
The window feels cold under my hand. It must be very cold outside, in spite of the bright sunshine that pours in on me, making me blink. I am sitting in the kitchen, having my first cup of coffee and my first cigarette of the day. Usually I have a certain amount of trouble getting up in the morning; I lie there with a feeling of familiar but completely unfounded dread, never ready to face the world. But this morning is different. I am up early just so I can move about the kitchen, doing the pre-preliminary and completely unnecessary things like looking at the turkey to make sure it is thawing OK. Mostly I