Happy Thanksgiving

This Thanksgiving feels heavier than ever—my younger brother passed a few months ago, and this’ll be our first holiday without him. I dreaded seeing Mom, knowing how heartbroken she’d be. I took a hit from my pipe, tucked it away in the console, and walked up to the house, putting my dad’s shovel to the side before stepping inside.
I was surprised to find my sisters already there, laughing in the kitchen with my mom. My dad gave me an absentminded wave from the couch as he watched the game. I walked over to my older brother, threw a playful punch, kissed my sisters on the cheek, and pulled Mom in for a long hug. “You doin' okay, Mom?” I asked, noticing the slight tremble in her smile. She rubbed my arms, took a steadying breath, and nodded. “I’m okay,” she said softly, quickly glancing at the oven. When the timer buzzed, I grabbed the oven mitts and pulled out the meat. It was already carved and taken off the bone. "Smells good, Mama," my dad said, walking over to the sink to wash some dirt from underneath his fingernails.