Thanksgiving free essay sample

It was a thanksgiving long weekend and my cousin’s family had come over for some turkey. I was hugging and greeting them with a humongous smile on my face as though I hadn’t seen them in ages. Although we live close by, we never got to see each other, due to lack of time. My cousin, Sally, came and said hello, â€Å"Lucia! We finally meet again!† This was her way of salutation. She jumped up and down with her brother cheerfully. Once she had told me that coming and visiting me was the best thing in the world, and, interestingly enough, I didn’t have any other choice but to hide how I felt the opposite. Inspiration is sometimes derived from surprising sources. I didn’t actually hate her, I just couldn’t stand her. She was always a sign of perfection though it was not always in educational ways. We will write a custom essay sample on Thanksgiving or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page Her hair was always perfectly tied back into a pony tail with pretty ribbons that her mother, my aunt makes. She was short for a thirteen year old, however she did not have any complex about it; I think it was her general optimism. While Sally and her brother were watching a movie downstairs, I helped out in the kitchen with dinner. I have to admit, making dinner for thanksgiving is not easy or simple. My job was to set the table and bring the dishes over, when the dinner was ready. I called my cousins down stairs instead of actually going down and bringing them up. My mother already warned me about it, but I could not help my indolence. Sally and her brother came up and we were all seated at the table. As we were eating, Sally spoke, â€Å"It’s so nice to get together once in a while and eat with everybody like this, it makes me so content!† I knew that she used a variety of words, but don’t children usually say ‘happy’ instead of ‘content’? Sometimes I wonder if she actually thinks of what she is going to say, and repeats it several times in her head before saying them out loud. It was nearly eight o’clock and I was in the kitchen once again, however, this time, I was putting the dishes in the dish washer. Then, my mother told me that I could go downstairs and keep my cousin company. I nodded at her and went down the stairs two at a time. At the bottom, there she was, staring at the door to our recreation room. I asked her what she was doing and after a moment of brief pause, she asked pointing at the door, â€Å"Does this mean anything specific to you?† To tell the truth, I had no idea what she was talking about so I just answered her without actually giving at least a bit of a thought to it. â€Å"It’s an object that allows me to enter a room of any kind?† There was a slight tone of sarcasm mixed in my voice, which I think she ignored. This time, Sally opened and then closed the door. She asked me if I ever thought about how my whole life could change because of a single door that does not appear to be too important to anybody . She also said that when we come to think about it, ‘door’ could mean something very profound. â€Å"You know,† she continued, â€Å"It could mean something.† Now she had all my attention as she added. â€Å"Maybe it’s a door to your future, or for some people, it could be a door to their freedom.† At first, I thought she was joking because, I mean, what she was really trying to say was it was like a door to a fantasy land, was it not? But when I looked her in the eyes, I quickly wiped off the silly smile on my face because I realized that she was being sincere. The next thing I knew, I was looking at her as if I could not believe the words that were coming out of her mouth; I knew that she was clever, diligent and reflective, but I did not know that she gave a lot of thought to simple objects around her. Things that people do not usually pay any attention to, such as a door. I asked her if there was anything that she was waiting for or expe cting from the door, and if she were how she could know what’s coming or what’s really behind it. I tried to make myself sound logical, but I don’t think I did a very good job of it. And her next few words left me standing speechless with my feet glued to the floor. â€Å"That’s the thing Lucia, you DON’T know what’s behind the door. All you do, all you can do, is to wait till you open it and see it for your-self.† Her fixed smile on her sweet little face made me think of just one thing: how can a thirteen year old girl think of such a thing? I just hope that she sticks to her opinions, just like how she has been, as always. My young cousin, whom I’ve never thought of admiring, not even a single day in my life, made me realize deeper significance of an object we see every day. Because of her precocious thought towards a door, I now view the world in a completely different way. Thanksgiving free essay sample The old van drove down the dirt road, kicking a steady stream of dust into the humid air. Inside, the atmosphere was stifling, the windows did not open wide enough, and the air conditioning was still broken. A bead of sweat traced a line down my face as I gazed outside, taking in the strange world of palm trees and new smells outside. I thought about home, where late November means cold, and usually snow. After what seemed like an eternity, the van entered the town, passing donkeys, chickens, little stores, and battered houses. The van stopped at a fork in the road, and we were greeted by a large group of people holding signs of welcome. Bienvenidos a Nahualapa, El Salvador. To the other villagers, the sight might have looked comical, a procession of smiling children, friendly elders, and everyone in between leading the group of gringos down the road, and up the hill to the church. We will write a custom essay sample on Thanksgiving or any similar topic specifically for you Do Not WasteYour Time HIRE WRITER Only 13.90 / page The church, our church’s sister parish, was nothing more than a dirt floor and a tin roof held up by fallen branches of trees tied together under a tree in the clearing. A little barefoot girl took my hand and pointed proudly at the church, yammering away in her native tongue, not aware that, despite my experience of four years of Spanish in school, I had no idea what she was saying. I waited patiently until she finished, then smiled and nodded. She smiled back, apparently receiving the response she wanted. Over the course of the next few days, we slowly became part of the community. I met Wilson, a boy who had to quit school to sell oranges by the highway to support his family; Liliana, a girl who was living with her aunt because her parents had been killed; and Pedro, a leader of the community, who inspired the best in those around him. Everybody had a story to tell, and although I could not always understand, I was glad to listen. Between helping organize a community garden to make healthy foods more readily available, playing games with the children, discussing micro-loans to start a community chicken business, and generally helping out where we could, there was never a shortage of ways to help. One of the best things we did was arrange scholarships through members of our church to sponsor the education of the children, giving parents the hope of a brighter future for their children. These families must pay for all their own school supplies, shoes and uniforms, as well as transport ation to and from school. Education in rural El Salvador is free in name only. When the time came to leave, I felt like I was leaving an adoptive family, and, despite our differences and the language barrier, I had a place in the community. I had some amazing experiences, from learning how to communicate using hand gestures and only the most basic Spanish vocabulary, to eating a chicken heart (it was surprisingly good). I wouldn’t say that it â€Å"changed my life†, but it was an eye-opening experience. I learned a lot, not only about the world that exists outside of mine, but also about myself, my ability to create a positive change in somebody’s life, and make a difference. The spirit of the Nahualapan people was truly inspiring. This culture’s perspectives differ so much from our own. They have so little in comparison to me, and yet they seem infinitely more content and thankful for what they do have. They treasure their possessions, instead of thinking about what they don’t have and wanting more. The Nahualapans are proud; they don’t want the relationship between us to be one-sided. Instead, they want our respect and partnership, with each side giving and receiving something to and from the other. They have so much more to offer than I could have imagined. What the Nahualapan people gave to me was an intangible shift in my attitude and a newfound feeling of gratitude. I have never felt as grateful for what I have, and the opportunities I possess, as I did on that Thanksgiving one year ago.