"He's on the twenty, the ten, TOUCHDOWN!"" This is what my aunt, grandmother, my mother and I hear in the background as we set the table for our Thanksgiving feast. The women in my family had baked for hours; preparing pies, sweet potatoes and cornbread as my father lay on the couch watching sports. As we prepared our traditional holiday foods, and cleaned the house from top to bottom, my father kept focus on the TV, without offering us any help. .
More family members arrived before the Thanksgiving meal, and I could hear all the men, together in the living room, yelling and cheering on the football team. In the heat of the kitchen, my the women prepared mashed potatoes, rolls, green beans and all the fixings for a great meal. My aunt frequently checked the large turkey as it roasted in the oven, each time basting it to keep it moist and flavorful. All the food, every bite, was prepared by the women in my family. .
Once all the food was ready to be served, the ladies began to put the food on the table. The men were called to come eat, and once seated, my uncle, his father, and his brother received the first portions. As the men dug in, quickly scooping food from serving bowl to plate, the women waited, and at last were given the opportunity to our their portions. While we served ourselves, the men were already eating, wiping up the gravy on their plates with the freshly baked rolls. .
When we're done eating, the women rose from the table, collect the plates and silverware and bring it all to the kitchen for soaking and washing. The men, belly's full, made their way to the back to the living room to continue watching the football game. While they relaxed and put up their feet, the women were in the kitchen, as usual, hands deep in dishwater. When the plates and utensils were washed and put away, we prepared the table once more with dessert plates, new silverware and coffee cups. Once again, when everyone had eaten dessert, the men left us for the TV, and we returned to the kitchen for another round of cleaning.