Ah, Thanksgiving.
A time of wonder,
Peace,
Prosperity,
And stuffing your face with food.

As we prepare this bountiful feast,
A treat for the eyes,
And the mouth,
I can't resist swiping some food.

After a never-ending period of silence,
And unbearable agony,
It's time to eat.

After we say our evening prayer,
And each say what we're thankful for,
I start to load up my plate with food.

However,
Just as I reach for the mashed potatoes,
A hand stops me.
Mom's.
She insists on filling my plate with that
And some of the other appetizers
Herself.
"Aw, Mom!"

Once all of that’s over,
My plate is literally stacked to the ceiling,
With a gigantic heaping of food.
Everyone exchanges uneasy glances,
I wonder why.

After eating half my plate, however,
I start to feel it.
An ever so subtle
Twinge of the stomach.
I ignore it.

Bad move.

Cramming even more food into my stomach,
That twinge there somehow grows sharper.
I notice it,
Decide to stop eating,
And watch “A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving”
To let my food digest.

25 minutes later, though,
Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving is over,
But I still have some stomach cramps.

Right when I decide to pack it in for the night,
Our special store-bought Thanksgiving pies are served,
Fresh out of the oven,
Calling to me with an irresistible temptation.
How can I help but follow?

But then,
Right when we’re about to start a movie,
The stomach cramps suddenly escalate
To the point where I can’t bear them any longer.
I scream in pain.

Half an hour of
Pain,
Screaming,
And frantic administration of
Natural medicine later,
The stomach cramps have subsided
To the point where I can finally watch a movie.

2 action-packed hours later, though,
The movie ends,
And my pains aren’t that much better.

Mom helps me up to my room,
And helps me change into my PJs
And brush my teeth.

Then,
In bed together,
While I read some comic books,
She gives me a water/baking soda mixture,
And some more medicine.

Finally,
At 11 PM,
When Mom’s so exhausted she can hardly talk,
The pains have subsided to the point
Where I can go to sleep.

Mom tucks me in,
Turns out the light,
Lightly kisses me on the forehead,
And promptly exits the room.
I fall asleep instantly.

When I wake up this morning,
All traces of any stomach pains have vanished,
Just like a bad dream.

And as I get up,
And quickly dress myself,
I think to myself,
That I will never eat so much at Thanksgiving dinner again.

At least,
Not until next year, anyway.