Today I am making a paper Turkey. A large one with no feathers. The point being that I don't want to study the GRE, I don't want to think about my impoverished school anymore, and my home has no Thanksgiving decorations. So, I am making a turkey. "No feathers," you say, "why?" That's the fun part. We make the feathers and write what we are thankful for on them and then you put it on the turkey. Slowly, the turkey fills up into a conglomeration of the most unnatural looking feathers you've ever seen in your life.
My roommates and I have done this for the last three years. Now I'm doing it here. It brings back really odd memories. Things like an FHE brother writing that he was thankful for "The perfect outfit" and David writing that he was thankful for "His girl." My roommate, who is married and is having a baby, writing "being single." The list of random thankfulnesses go on ranging from W.B. Yeats, to camping, to snow, to the cha-cha, to a toothbrush.
It makes me miss that time for just a slice of a second as thin as the paper that the feathers are made on. Because if I think too hard, it brings back other memories that I am thankful I am no longer in. But for that slice, I reminisce. And it is good. Happy Thanksgiving.