5:32pm, it’s getting hard to see the crosshairs through the scope of my gun. 6:27pm, legal shooting time ends. I climb down from my tree stand quietly. I sneak out of the wooded tree line and down to the aged, decades old four wheeler trail at the bottom of the ravine. I truck along quietly trying to sneak out without making myself obvious. The cold air makes it hurt to breathe. I try to mute the sniffles. I hear a snort, a kick, twigs breaking and I see a white tail flop left to right as the deer runs away. I failed.

I can now see the light in the windows of the house. I get to the deck, unload my gun, bullet after bullet pop out. I set my gun down and take off my camo. I walk in to George Jones singing “Same Ole Me” on the TV. Nana finishes up dinner in the kitchen, while my sister helps peel the potatoes. Thanksgiving dinner spreads out like a blanket over the table. I hear footsteps on the deck outside. Lulu starts barking at the door. It’s Dad. He comes in and tells me about his night and what he saw. No meat tonight.

Dinner is ready and everyone relocates from the living room to the kitchen. We take our typical seats at the kitchen table. The turkey gets passed around first. Then the mashed potatoes, the gravy, the green bean casserole.

Three servings later, comes the pumpkin torte; A graham cracker crusted, pumpkin filled dessert, with a sweet topping of whipped cream. Delicious. The first bite, the best. The smooth texture rolling on my tongue, with a slight crunch from the graham cracker bottom. Sweet. The best way to end a cold night of hunting.