When I was a girl my family would often gather with my mom's side of the family at my Grandparents' home for Thanksgiving. It was such a fun time to see all my cousins. We kids would color, play games, nibble on snacks, and have an all out good time together. One year though we had to dash out as soon as meal was over. There was no lingering like in past years.
My dad wanted to get to Montana by the evening of Thanksgiving. He had arranged for us to sleep in the church basement of the church my parents attended when they would visit Montana. I'm guessing we arrived around midnight, though I can't say for certain. My memory is a little fuzzy, but I don't think we turned on any lights. We simply rolled out our sleeping bags and went right to sleep.
The following morning my mom awaked my sister and I in a panic. In the light of day she realized we were sleeping in a preschool! Yep, the church apparently had a preschool. She made us get up and we had to quickly dress and pack up anything we had out before the kids showed up. What a way to start a day!
As the clock ticked past eight in the morning and then nine she decided they must have closed the school for the holiday. Which made perfect sense to me since we were given permission to stay there.
Though not funny at the time, I have fond memories of that crazy morning.
Do you have a favorite Thanksgiving memory?
If you enjoy stories that feature Thanksgiving I have one. It's called A Love that Lasts. It's included in a series compilation. Which can be found on Amazon.
Award winning author Kimberly Rose Johnson married her college sweetheart and lives in the Pacific Northwest USA. From a young child Kimberly has been an avid reader. That love of reading fostered a creative mind and led to her passion for writing. She especially loves romance and writes contemporary romance and romantic mystery and suspense with a heart.
Kimberly holds a degree in Behavioral Science from Northwest University in Kirkland, Washington, and is a member of American Christian Fiction Writers.
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