There’s something about fried turkey that we can’t leave alone.
Carving up the bird till all that’s left is bones.
I believe there’s magic in the baked Mac and cheese, Grandma’s a sorcerer of sorts.
True, too, for the collard greens, I can’t help but overload my fork.
Usually, I limit the pork but there’s no denying the way the ham is glazed.
Some eyes closed while dad prays, others can’t break the gaze.
Meatballs are magnificent drizzled with terriakyi or BBQ, while the deviled eggs look heavenly and you can’t eat less than two.
The potato salad is picture perfect. The pasta salad too, but the corn pudding drives me crazy.
I told my aunt if you know nothing else, know that.
I thought, I had my overeating under control, but without fail I relapse.
There’s just not enough room on these plates to get everything on the first take.
Stuffed, but I’ll make space for the yams.
The green beans do appease, and gravy must make it in my plans.
When I’m with my country cousins chittlings make a cameo.
When I’m with family out West how the wine does flow.
The way black folks put it all together it’s like the production of a show.
I’ll be honest: I’ve done more watching than working in my day.
Anyway, what is dinner without dessert?
Stomachs seem to stretch to fit in the final course.
The spread is simply stupendous, pastries of every size and shape.
Some prefer the pecan or the pumpkin, but I think sweet potato pie takes the cake.
After all the food you would think we focus on all the extra weight, but we shift focus to Christmas.
A month is all we have to wait.
I’m so thankful for my family.
Composition book 