I remember having Thanksgiving dinner with my grandparents at their cottage in Bobcaygeon, Ontario. I remember the autumn leaves falling into the lake. I remember a cool wind blowing across my cheeks and I remember it feeling refreshing.
I wasn’t worried about getting cold because I had on a white cable knit sweater that I had gotten as a gift from my grandmother the Christmas before. I also remember that I knew I was going to be cozy warm soon because I knew Grandpa was inside the cottage building a fire in the fireplace.
As I walked into the cottage, I took my boots and coat off in the mud room and then walked into the kitchen. The smell in the kitchen was amazing. Grandma had just taken the turkey out of the oven. There were bowls of mashed potatoes, boiled carrots, mashed turnip, rich brown gravy and homemade dinner rolls.
While Grandpa carved the turkey, I helped Grandma set the table. We used Grandma’s good set of dishes and her best silverware.
“I am very thankful for Thanksgiving dinner here at the cottage,” I said as Grandma dished out the food.
“We are thankful to share Thanksgiving with you,” said Grandma. “Happy Thanksgiving!”
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