Thanksgiving

Mama wanted to keep Shirley and Bobo,

but the other seven pardoned turkeys

went to good homes before Thanksgiving Day.

On Thanksgiving morning, she packs vegetables

and mashed potatoes, a pumpkin pie,

and a cooked chicken (because it was already roasted at the store)

in a cardboard box.

“Take this to Mr. Dell,” she tells Papa.

“He is all alone.”

This is how Mama will till the soil

with Mr. Dell.

“Come with me, Meems,” Papa says.

I shake my head. I don’t want to see Mr. Dell.

“It will be easier to carry the food

in two boxes, so I need your help.”

“Well, okay,” I say, “as long as I don’t have to talk to him.”

We carry the boxes across the yard

and over the fence to Mr. Dell’s back door,

and knock

and knock again.

Just when I’m about to say “Let’s leave them here,”

the door opens

a crack

and then wider.

Mr. Dell doesn’t smile,

but he doesn’t shut the door.

“Emiko made dinner for you,” Papa says,

and holds out his box.

Chicken-smelling steam seeps through the flaps of my box,

and then a miracle happens—

Mr. Dell opens the storm door all the way

and takes Papa’s box.

I stack mine on top.

Mr. Dell looks at us

and says, “Thank you.”

“Happy Thanksgiving,” Papa says.

We walk side by side

all the way home

before we look at each other

and smile.