Narrative Essay On Thanksgiving

The day was Thursday, November, Twenty Second and it was Thanksgiving. This was the day where my cousins from Iowa to Florida all came to my house for the grandest meal of the year. My house isn’t that grand, but rather cozy. The first thing someone notices when they walk in is(be verb) the kitchen floor. It is(be verb) a light gray tile with a white granite island. The lightAfter that is the stove top which is (be verb)plated with silver lining and is(be verb) a gas and electric combo. Cooking relieved my mother’s stress. My mother has(be verb) a passion for baking, so she installed a six rack oven underneath the stove top. After stepping through the kitchen you enter the dining room. It has yellow painted walls and has a twenty foot table with fourteen chairs on each side and two at the top. During Thanksgiving the most common sound is the constant screaming in Chinese. My mother would argue with her sister about how each of them is cooking the chicken incorrectly and how they are each using the wrong spices and herbs. Last year the burnt turkey didn't taste good because my mother seasoned it with lemon juice.

Although Thanksgiving is a hectic event, my whole family loves spending time with each other.

When I was younger, I never really valued the importance of family, but as I have aged, family has become a major part of my life. One of the most important things I believe in is the bond between a father and a son. I cherish the time that I get to interact with my father, because I know that some kids don’t get to spend as much time with their father as I do. My bond with my father has increased over the years. As a child, I would solely be interested in playing with my action figures, but as I got older I started to value the time I got to spend with my

father.
The night of Thanksgiving, my family would gorge ourselves with foods ranging from turkey to rice pilaf. Plates danced around the table as my mother tried to get things neat. During Thanksgiving, my family would always watch Sunday Night Football. My father and I would sit on the couch for hours and watch the game unfold. My father, who always wore an NFL shirt, was fond of spending time with me. Watching TV entertained my father and I when we were bored. As the opening kickoff inched closer we could smell the food coming from the kitchen. The powerful scents of rosemary and thyme filled my nostrils as the thought of chicken made my mouth water. The New England Patriots were playing the New York Jets. The Patriots, my favorite team, were a passing force, blocking specialist, and a punting genius. The Patriots were the best team in the league at the time and were trying to get to the Super Bowl. I had been a Patriots fan all my life and couldn't wait for the game to start. As the game began I remember being called to the kitchen to help bring out the turkey. This was a tradition that only the youngest member of the family was allowed to do. I took the turkey and set it on the table. The family said our prayers and we began to devour our food.
In the background I remember hearing the whistle from the football game blaring across the house. As I sat at the table, my mind urged me to quickly sit down in front of the TV but I couldn’t. I was forced to stay and eat with my family. I asked my mom if it was ok to eat in front of the TV but she told me that I must stay and eat with the family. I was infuriated that I wasn't allowed to watch the game. Dinner seemed to get longer and longer as time went on. I began to almost dream of myself watching the game. During dinner my mother talked with her siblings about all sorts of subjects ranging from work to the next vacation she was planning. I, on the other hand, was very angry and quiet. My dad asked me if everything was alright and I just sighed. I told him “Mom wont let me watch the game.” He replied “family is the most important thing in the world, always remember that.” After my conversation with him, I finished eating dinner. The rest of dinner went by like a breeze. I noticed that the game was almost complete and was filled with rage. I turned to my parents and shouted, “Why cant I watch the game.” I cried and ran off to my room. Being the typical nine year old, I was very moody when things didn't go my way especially when it came to football. My mother immediately came and yelled at me. She was angered that I had stormed out of the dining room on thanksgiving day. When my dad came to my room he comforted me and told me that I could watch the game with him. When thanksgiving was all over my father and I went to his bedroom and watched the Patriots game together. We talked about how Tom Brady, the patriots quarterback, was a master of the game. My father told me the Jets were an atrocious team and that they would lose. The game was in the early 4th quarter and the Patriots were down thirty-five to twenty-one. Mark Sanchez, the current quarterback of the Jets at the time, was having the game of his life. He had thrown for over 300 yards and threw for four touchdowns with only one interception.
My dad and I were rooting for the Patriots. Tom Brady ran down the field and scored two touchdowns. The score was now thirty-five to thirty-five. The Patriots had the ball and we're going to score. They were on the six yard line. As they snapped the ball Tom Brady was sacked and fumbled the ball. A jets defensive lineman scooped up the ball and ran for the touchdown. I was very upset and went to my dad. We both looked at each other in disbelief as Tom Brady had just lost to the Jets. Although we were sad, we enjoyed the time we had gotten to spend with each other. This has shaped who I am, because I cherish the time spent with my father. Although we may get in many arguments, I love him for the person that he has shaped me to become. My time bonding with him has helped me understand the true importance of family.