Crunchy leaves and colors, slight chill in the air.
Heartfelt prayers of gratitude over turkey with stuffing, cranberry sauce, butter beans, warm apple cider and sweet potato pie…stomach kept empty and ready for it all.
Spirituality, family fun (and fights), making new memories for the photo album before all stumble from kitchen to living room to pass out like beached whales…bellies just as round.
Contented fatigue, pleasant conversation, crackling fire in the hearth…warm…cozy.
A chill in the air…just a touch of the terror your ancestors felt as they were poisoned and butchered by God-fearing Pilgrims.
Leaves the color of blood crunching beneath your feet like the bones of your ancestors strewn across the lands of this great nation.
A nation that once belonged to your forefathers, before it was wrenched away and re-fertilized with their blood and bones. A nation that now glorifies this massacre, and those who led it, rewriting genocide into a warm-fuzzy family fable.
A fable you must suffer through, year after year.