When a tornado(龙卷风) touched down in a small town nearby,many families were left completed ruined. Afterward all the local newspapers carried many human-interest stories featuring some of the families who suffered the hardest.

One Sunday, a particular picture especially touched me. A young woman stood in front of an entirely shattered(破碎的) mobile home, a depressed expression on her face. A young boy, seven or eight years old, stood at her side, eyes downward. Clutching(紧握) at her skirt was a tiny girl who stared into the camera, eyes wide with confusion and fear.

The article that went with the picture gave the clothing sizes of each family member. With growing interest, I noticed that their sizes closely matched ours. This would be a good opportunity to teach my children to help those less fortunate than themselves. I stuck the picture of the young family on our refrigerator, explaining their difficulty to my seven-year-old twins, Brad and Brett, and to three-year-old Meghan.

“These poor people now have nothing,” I said. “We’ll share what we have with them. I brought three large boxes down from the room upstairs and placed them on the living room floor. Meghan watched seriously, as the boys and I filled one of the boxes with canned goods and foods.

While I sorted through our clothes, I encouraged the boys to go through their toys and donate some of their less favorite things. Meghan watched quietly as the boys piled up old toys and games.

Meghan walked up with Lucy, her worn, much-loved rag doll hugged tightly to her chest. She came to the box that held the toys, pressed her round little face into Lucy's flat, painted-on-face, gave her a final kiss, then laid her gently on top of the other toys.

“Oh, Honey,” I said.” You don’t have to give Lucy. You love her so much.”

Meghan nodded seriously, eyes filled with held-back tears. "Lucy makes me happy, Mommy. Maybe she’ll make that other little girl happy,too.”

The boys had watched,open-mouthed,as their baby sister placed her favorite doll in the box.

I looked my children for a long moment.

Wednesday night, it was the closing time of the mall. But there was an hour’s work, at least, to get everything cleaned up. It would be 11 :00 pm before I finally got home. I hadn’t even had time to have dinner. I was starving. My feet ached. My whole body, from head to foot, was filled with tiredness. I couldn’t wait to go to bed. But it would be only 6 hours before the alarm went off at 5 :00 am for my day job.

Things had been tight for over a year. My husband Paul’s business had taken a huge hit. I had a full-time job at a day care centre and somehow did my homework for my college class too. Then I had to work nights at the mall. Without me taking my second job, there wouldn’t be enough money to pay the bills, let alone buy any New Year presents for my 15-year-old daughter, Marie. No one wanted to wake up on New Year’s morning to no presents.

I barely even saw Paul and Marie anymore. Marie was growing up, but a teenage girl still needed her mom. I worried about her. Was she eating enough? Keeping up with her school work? I wasn’t afraid of hard work. Everyone was having to dig deeper these days, putting in extra hours. I knew I was lucky to have two jobs, when millions of people couldn’t find one.

How I hoped to quit my job at the day care centre and obtain a full-time degree. I’d dropped down to one class a semester. If I quit that, there was no way I’d find the willpower to try again. Besides, wasn’t I always telling Marie to never give up?

My mind went back to the conversation I’d had with Marie earlier. Paul had dropped her off at the mall, where she was getting picked up for a babysitting job. “Remember we’re going shopping this night,” she said, “I’ll even have my own money. See you later.”

The floor was nearly done. The manager asked me to leave.

Every previous year on Thanksgiving Day I’d woken up early, filled with excitement, unable to wait for the turkey, pumpkin pie with pecans, and my grandma’s famous cheesecake. But I would never forget the lesson that my mother taught me when I was 14 years old. That Thanksgiving, I couldn’t find the magic anymore. For some reason the holiday seemed fake (假的). I suddenly felt like Thanksgiving was a big lie. I saw no reason to celebrate.

As my aunts, uncles, cousins, and grandma started to arrive carrying plates of food, baskets of bread, and pitchers of egg nog, I grew more and more angry and frustrated. None of them were really thankful, I realized. The whole thing was a lie!

When my mom called for everyone to take their seats for dinner, I left. I ran into the guest room where no one would look, crying. I was defiant (反抗的) because I wanted to be an honest person but 1 was realizing that Thanksgiving was fake. It didn’t feel right to join in the tradition---say something beautiful one by one around the table.

My mom, worried that 1 was absent from the table, came to see what was wrong, “No one is really thankful!” I sobbed, “They just pretend for one day because that’s what you’re supposed to do!"

My mom sat down next to me and listened wisely. Then she nodded. “You’re right,” she told me, “it’s fake until you find the truth for yourself.” She said Thanksgiving was a time to reflect because we don’t always get a chance to see loved ones and eat a good meal. Then she left. I didn’t listen to her. I was convinced that I could never find joy celebrating again.

But I was also starving and I had to eat something.

At her words, I realized they wanted me to be a part of the tradition.