My eye caught sight of it as it sat there in front of me. Slowly moving and sliding around before my eyes. It looked like nothing I had ever seen before. It was green with some mysterious white objects defying gravity inside. I carefully picked up a knife, then with all my might stabbed it right in the middle. It split in two pieces, one edging off my plate, and the other toward my mashed potatoes. This was no toxic object (at least I hoped not); it was my grandmother's marshmallow and pear, green jello mold.

I absolutely cannot stand Thanksgiving. For as long as I can remember, my family and I have gone to my grandparents' house to devour the lovely spread my grandmother puts on every November. It's not that I don't enjoy the company, or that she's a bad cook, but the food is disgusting! Why can't it be a spaghetti and salad Thanksgiving instead of turkey and squash. I don't like poultry and meats much to begin with, but having to look at that ugly, shrivelled, featherless, smelly bird and all its bones for the duration of the meal is not exactly something I am thankful for.

I am grateful for my family and friends, my health and home, but who decided that every year in November, we will eat turkey and rejoice. The side dishes are no help: squash, potatoes, stuffing (from inside the bird), and, of course, my grandmother's jello mold which makes every Thanksgiving complete. My sister and I each take a glob to be polite, but we never eat it. We try to see who can find more things floating around inside and count how many times it shakes. The jello mold is my family's piece of tradition.

Considering all the different cultures in our melting pot of America, there is no need for everyone to dine on turkey, and I'm sure the turkey would agree. As long as you are spending the day with your family, that is reason enough to give thanks. n