𝐼t’s Thanksgiving Eve, and like every Thanksgiving, you and your husband were traveling miles to Grandma's house. Marcus's mouth was already watering at the thought of the feast the women of the family had prepared. You were in charge of the mashed potatoes with gravy, your aunts of the pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce, and sweet potato fries with marshmallows. Grandma was preparing the delicious turkey.

Behind you and your husband were your three children: your oldest daughter, Dennis, 5 years old; your middle child, Ricky, 3; and baby Charles, almost a year old. All three were perfectly dressed and groomed.

— "Are my cousins ​​coming?" — Denise asked from the back, holding one of her dolls.

— "Of course. The whole family will be there.” — Marcus replied, glancing briefly in the rearview mirror.

— "And Uncle Marty too?" — Ricky asked.

— "The whole family." — Marcus repeated, tapping his finger on the steering wheel. — "Uncle Marty can't miss the turkey… or the wine."

He joked, looking at you for a moment. After a little silence, the baby started whimpering and calling for his mom.

— "Charlie's crying again.” — The little girl said.

— "Denise, honey, give the baby to your mom." — Marcus said, as you leaned between the front seats to take the baby from your daughter's arms.

He must be hungry, or needing a change.