Thanks

Sitting around the Thanksgiving table, we hold hands and bow our heads to pray. My parents do a round-robin type of grace before dinner, and this time my mom decides we should all share what we’re thankful for. The ritual of grace always presents a bit of a conundrum for me, as I try to appreciate all I have without thanking a God I don’t believe in. I'm happy to be given a topic.

As the prayer train goes around the other side of the table, Muffin leans over and asks, “What y’all doing?” She turns Texan for some reason whenever she asks this question. While Miss M can recite the traditional before-dinner prayer by heart, as the child of heathens Muffin has no idea what grace even is.

“Think of something you like and that you’re happy to have,” I whisper in her ear. I am up next, so I talk about how glad I am that my sister has had her baby before her due date, giving me a chance to meet her when she was just days old. I’ve somehow met all three of my nieces and nephews within a week of their birth, as they did with Muffin. Despite living halfway across the country from my family, I don't miss as much as you'd think.

Muffin’s turn. “And what are you thankful for?” my mom asks.

“Chicken,” Muffin replies solemnly.

I’m thankful for chicken too.