Assignment 14: Maggie Anderson

 I enjoy Thanksgiving a great deal. My parents and I drive to Pikeville to spend the day with my paternal grandparents, my aunt, and my two cousins. We head up in the evening the day before and stop for dinner at a Miguel's, a pizza place. about an hour from Lexington, a tradition that is part of any trip to Pikeville. Miguel's is a tiny little building in the woods that exists to serve rock climbers, including a campground behind the restaurant and a collection of gear for sale inside. The pizza is fantastic. We eat in the basement because the main room is always already full, surrounded by climbers wearing hats and puffy coats charging their phones and laptops and talking. There's usually a group speaking what we're pretty sure is German.
  In the past, my parents and I both had separate rooms in my grandparents' house. Two years ago, they moved into assisted living and my family now stays in a hotel. The setting of the dinner has shifted recently too. In the past, my mother would make pies in the morning at my grandparents', then we would go to my aunt's and help with sides all afternoon while my grandmother made the turkey. Around five, we would load up the sides and go to my grandparents' for the dinner.
 Well, two years ago we had the dinner at my aunt's, which we did again this year. We have the turkey, already cut up, on the table along with the rolls, butter, and cranberry sauce. Another table against the wall holds all the sides, including mashed potatoes, sweet potatoes, broccoli  casserole, stuffing, and macaroni and cheese (a tradition my mother has disdained since it started, before I can remember). We get sparkling grape juice for the occasion and it's the only thing we drink out of a real glass. The plates and water cups are paper and Styrofoam, the napkins and tablecloth are also all disposable, a condition I abhor. In the old days, my grandmother would roll out real place settings for the dinner, but the changes in recent years have ended that.
At the end, we have the pies my mother made, a pumpkin, an apple, and a pecan. At some point, my grandmother will steal some crust from other pieces. Sometimes my mother makes an extra apple, which my grandmother and my cousin split so that the rest of us can have a chance at the other pie. Afterwards, we talk around the table, usually playing a board game or two.