happen.
Not because I agreed with them.
Not because I thought fifty years of factory work made my father less worthy of sitting at a holiday table.
I stayed quiet because I told myself keeping the peace mattered.
I convinced myself I could stand between both families and absorb whatever discomfort came with it.
That was my mistake.
I didn’t understand just how big a mistake it was until Thanksgiving morning.
It was around eleven.
The turkey had already been roasting for two hours, and the house smelled like every
