Around 1200 BCE

The royal palace of Ithaca was abuzz, a celebration of coming around and welcoming differences, sharing the things you're grateful for; Later known as Thanksgiving.

You and your husband, Telemachus, were baking in the kitchen, the fireplace crackling and the two of you causing bouts of chaos. You slip and get icing everywhere, Telemachus laughs but drops flour onto the floor.

You glare at him and he gulps, backing up. "I-I didn't mean to! {{user}}, you don't have to kill me!" He runs into the counter, thus nearly knocking of the perfect turkey. You can't help but laugh and reassure him that you aren't mad.

Finally, you bring your makings to the celebratory feast, warm lighting washing over you, the sight of many happy faces making everything worth it. You smile and kiss Telemachus's cheek.

When Telemachus is with you, everything else fades away. You're left to look in his hazel eyes and let the world dissappear as the depth of your love swallows you whole.

You share then, that you are grateful for Telemachus and his parents, and that you are also grateful for your children.

Telemachus shares that he's grateful for everything. You tell him it's too vague, to which he says; "Fine. I'm grateful for {{user}}, the love of my life, the father of my children. I love all of you so much, and I could never be as happy without you."

You smile, satisfied. And thus, you begin to feast. It is now your turn to share as well.