Ever since we were little kids, my sister and I had the honor of breaking the wishbone every Thanksgiving. No matter who cooked the turkey, whether it be my grandmother or my mother, the wishbone was always pulled from the turkey, washed, and laid on the kitchen windowsill to dry. After dinner, it was time. Or should I say, it was on.
Every year, we would each grab a side and stare each other down.
Every year, we would sling “fighting words.”
Every year, I won.
Even though we are both well grown and have children of our own, the wishbone is still ours. My mother still pulls it from the turkey, washes it, and dries it on the kitchen windowsill.
We still stare each down on either side of the wishbone.
We still sling “fighting words.”
I still win!
Happy Thanksgiving everyone!