A Thanksgiving Story

You sent a ‘Save the date’ notice to all the guests-mostly Americans and some other cultures-two weeks in advance.

You explained why the celebration has to happen on the weekend not on Thursday since everyone works on Thursday in France.

You went to the special butcher and ordered the turkey, asking again, as you do every year, that all the innards need to be out and, for a little extra money, could they start the roasting for you.

You arranged to pick up the turkey the morning of your Thanksgiving feast, so you’d have at least three hours to finish the cooking.

You sent out e-mails far and wide asking where to find cranberries in Paris.

You wrote a lovely invitation with the history of Thanksgiving, then explained how it is a myth, yet it is most Americans’ favorite holiday.

You requested that each person think of something to share that they feel especially grateful for.

You borrowed chairs from the neighbors feeling a bit guilty that you were having a party and not inviting them.

You then wrote a note reminding the neighbors of the American holiday Thanksgiving and thanked them for contributing to it.

You went to the local Fruits Primeurs and bought up two kilos of green beans and a massive amount of potatoes, wondering again why sweet potatoes had never made it to France.

You pulled out all your Thanksgiving decorations and your pumpkin pie spice that you bring back each year from California.

You put together the ingredients for pumpkin pie and stored in the refrigerator.

You set your table early as it made you smile every time you walked by it.

You instructed your cat that she is not allowed to jump on the table or play with any of the decorations.

You sighed as your cat stared at you with that look that said “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You wrote e-cards to all your friends far and wide wishing them a Happy Thanksgiving.

You set the delivery time for the e-cards for the morning of Thanksgiving.

You went to sleep knowing everything would be perfect.

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A bientôt,

Sara