David opened the fridge door. With a flicker, the light inside died. David stared at the dark interior for a moment, then laughed, before pulling out the package of sliced turkey and a slice of processed cheese. Not much else was in the fridge: a half-bottle of ketchup, some shriveled potatoes, and a tupperware container he was afraid to open.
From the cupboard he pulled a half loaf of bread. With quick efficiency, he made his sandwich. Normally he only used one slice of turkey but he allowed himself two today, in addition to the cheese. He filled his plastic cup with cold water, emptied the remains of a chip bag onto his plate, and set his meal on the unsteady kitchen table.
He sat. Before eating, he looked around. The apartment was small; the addition of a cat might overcrowd the place. The walls were battered, and David had left them bare. A single four-by-six picture adorned the fridge. His two boys smiled at him from Disney’s Main Street, Mickey standing between them.
David looked at his turkey sandwich. He heard voices through the walls, laughs and energetic conversation, family crammed together for Thanksgiving. He tried to hear what they were saying but couldn’t make out the words.
Finally, he folded his hands. It seemed such a childish thing to do but he no longer cared. He closed his eyes. He would be a child now; it was far wiser than being mature.
“Dear Father,” he began, not in rote, but as if he really wanted someone to hear. He did not continue. He ran the back of his hand across his eyes, then opened them suddenly. He lifted the sandwich to his mouth and took a bite. He chewed slowly, savoring the simple flavors of bread and meat and cheese. He had eaten endless meals in the days before, without so much as a second thought.
“Father,” he said, still holding the sandwich. It was a real thing, a real pleasure, a real gift. “Thank you.”
It was perhaps the worst year of David’s life, but it was his first Thanksgiving.
This story was originally published in the 4 County Mall on 11-28-15.
This one is good.
Thanks!