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The smell of roasted turkey, brown sugar-cured ham, and cornbread dressing emanate from the kitchen and waft throughout the house. The sounds of my family fill the house. The wives can be found in the kitchen cooking and chattering like hens about the events of the past year. In the living room, the men can be found watching football, bellowing like cavemen as they root their team on and grunting in disdain if their team fumbles the ball. Children are running in and out of the house, stealing samples of food when no one is looking, and then running back outside to play more. When everyone has sat down to eat, the grandparents tell stories about when they were younger and the children can see their parents were once troublemakers too. After dinner, we gather outside for a nice bonfire, where we enjoy hot cinnamon-spiced apple cider before the hay ride. When it is my group’s turn to ride, I like to make a small nest in the hay and gaze up at the glittering stars while the sound of my family’s voices and the steady clop of the horses’ hooves lull me to
