Thanksgiving: A Time For Raw Bitterness.

Today's Thanksgiving.

(You're kidding, right?)

No, I'm not. It seriously, without-a-doubt is Thanksgiving.

Then, why in the big bad unforgiving world can't I find a wee bit of thankfulness inside my horrendously selfish self?

(Too many adjectives? Sorry...)

Because my parents are the first generation of immigrants, we don't really have a great big group of family here in the good ole States that can get together for a most fabulous reunion.

(Insert sad sad sad face.)

Every year, my parents suggest that Thanksgiving is going to be the most wonderful day.

And EVERY year, they end up sleeping the whole day, until about 7:00 PM.

"So what?", you ask.

Hmm...imagine yours truly waking up every Thanksgiving, ready for some incredible family fun, only to be told by my parents to wait.

And wait.

And wait.

Finally!

No, wait some more...

Being the ridiculously naive little girl that I've always been, I cling on to that slowly-dying flame of hope that my family will, for once, have that picture-perfect Thanksgiving. (you know, the one with the big turkey, ten pounds of mashed potatoes, and annoyingly loud family members to kick out at the end of the night.)

By the time my parents wake up, the flame has died, and I start the load of homework the merciless teachers have assigned for over Thanksgiving Break.

...I should have known.

How could I not have known?