The light reflections of early morning in a barren kitchen. I stand to look at the emptiness thinking of the senses that will soon be aroused by the smells emanating from the oven. How I will hear the clamor of scrape against Tami as he adroitly attempts the famous Turpin mashed potatoes. Enthusiastically I will watch the ballet of setting the table, placing the silver and the crystal, touching the linens that we have used in celebration all these years, lighting the candles. And then to taste the goodness, rich in the flavors of the season, butter and cream, savory and sweet. But mostly I will feel, that sixth sense of feeling deeply grateful for the blessings of this life, and the one who sits across from me on this day of giving thanks.