This is why Thanksgiving equals turkey candles

Thanksgiving has always been a fun holiday for me. I can’t remember ever having a bad one. There’s always been a lackluster Christmas or unsettling birthday, but Thanksgiving is different. Some people get together with a huge amount of family members and play football. Others choose not to acknowledge it at all. For me, it’s just my immediate family that has a late dinner. But we still choose to cook as though it was the whole 60-something cousins I have and their parents coming over.

The following short story may be just a smidge exaggerated or it may be completely true. I’m not sure. In my mind this is how I remember it though:

Every year, as mentioned, my mom makes this entire meal of every Thanksgiving food imaginable all by herself because no one can cook quite like my mom. When I was 3 or 4—the year escapes me—and my brother was 4 or 5 we were particularly hungry. For the first several Thanksgivings that I remember, my dad volunteered at a big Thanksgiving dinner for the less fortunate, so we would wait patiently until he came home around 6 to begin the festivities. This particular year, my brother and I weren’t so patient.

Being “so hungry I’m going to die” as I probably put it and smelling all the spices and recipes being concocted made for very antsy young Marie and young Aaron. It’s not like we weren’t fed throughout the day. It’s just that we weren’t being fed the beautiful meal my mom was cooking. Now this is where the details get fuzzy. Aaron was so hungry I think he was either hyper at the site of food or delirious as to what the food was. Either way, he picked up this really cute turkey candle my mom set out as a centerpiece. As he reached for his fork, I had an inkling of what was to come. He eyed the turkey candle then back to his fork. Without a moment’s hesitation he stabbed his fork right into the candle. I must have been the only one that saw because I don’t remember Aaron getting in trouble. But I was so worried he was going to get in trouble that I didn’t say anything either.

Years passed and we continued to use the turkey candle. We still have it and still have never actually put a flame to it. It still befuddles me that Aaron stabbed a turkey candle. It’s memories like these that make me love Thanksgiving. And that’s why I get so upset that Christmas has just turned into this massive conglomerate entity that absorbs the entire jest of Thanksgiving. Don’t get me wrong I love Christmas but I hate how Christmas has become another Hallmark Holiday. I’m sure most people feel this way, but I remember a time when companies would wait to air Christmas commercials until after Thanksgiving was observed.

So maybe let us take a minute and give thanks for the hilarious action of turkey candles being stabbed, because it’s been far too overlooked.

(Actual photo, fork marks still there)