Thanksgiving Shivering to the bone, running in the front door of my dad’s house I hear the sound of pots and pans popping on the stove. From the moment I stepped foot in the door I could smell ham and sweet potatoes baking in the oven. Walking in the kitchen I see my step mom mashing potatoes with a beater. As I walk to the stove I see eggs boiling so we could make deviled eggs. I hear a strange noise so I turned and I saw my grandmother in the doorway holding a crispy apple pie she had just made that morning in her hand. Then the timer went off and I pulled out the sizzling ham and soft rolls. The touch of the rolls in my hand brought back old memories of years past. My grandmother then took the pie out of the bag and put it in the oven