Personal Narrative: Hosting Thanksgiving

Hosting Thanksgiving was always a tradition at my house. We would always have my family down at my house every year for as far back as I can remember. That is, until this year. This year, my family and I went down to South Carolina for Thanksgiving. It was a blast! We stayed on a resort, and the nearest golf club made dinner for everyone on the resort. All we had to do was pick it up. I was out with my father and two brothers, named Christopher and Stephen, going for a driving tour of the surrounding areas nearest the resort. The tour was extremely scenic, with palmetto trees everywhere. I just so happened to be looking out the window and said a little too loudly, “STOP!”.

My father heard me, and slammed on the brakes and said, “Thomas,

I thought at first that the people in charge were just going to provide the turkey, but then the person in charge started handing Stephen a few white bags with boxes of something in them. Because there were so many boxes of food, I was wondering what was inside all of the bags and boxes that were sitting next to me. I suddenly got curious, and decided to look into the bags: In one bag, there was something that resembled a turkey, and a bunch of boxes with something in them. I didn’t get a chance to look in the second one, because just as I started to, we arrived back to our room on the resort. The minute we did, my father said, “Christopher, you are in charge of this bag. Thomas, you are in charge of the other bag. Do not drop them,” my father emphasised. I then tried to pick up the bag that I was in charge of, and I found that it was so heavy, that I nearly dropped it! We safely carried the bags into the room, and we found my mother and sister, Carolyn, sleeping. Christopher and I immediately set to work opening the boxes.

“Something smells good!” my mother shouted from the bedroom when she woke up from her nap due to the heavenly scents from the kitchen. Once the boxes were open, Christopher and I found a turkey, a container or two of gravy, cranberry sauce, stuffing, a huge pink ham drizzled with honey, a pecan pie, and a pumpkin pie, which were still hot, and ready to

“Okay!” I yelled back, and then my mother and father sat down last.

As soon as everyone was sitting down peacefully, I started heaping food onto my plate. Dinner, I could tell, was going to be outstandingly brilliant, even before I started piling an extreme amount of food onto my plate. Dinner was magnificently delicious. The turkey, cooked perfectly, had a smooth texture, with juices packed with flavor running down my mouth onto my plate. The gravy was warm, and tasted like liquid gold. The stuffing and cranberry sauce were a magical combination. When eaten together, they gave my tastebuds the feeling that the cranberry sauce and the stuffing were dancing with each other. The pecan pie had to be just about the best one I ever had. It tasted just like freshly cooked, warm pecans, in a pie crust, with frosting on them. Thanksgiving dinner lasted us for the rest of our trip in South Carolina. When we arrived home, I immediately knew that I would never forget this trip. If given the option of doing this again next year, as opposed to having Thanksgiving at home as usual, I would immediately say