Ficly

Early Thanksgiving

My father who yelled and my mother who cried
(when I shamelessly stole from the pool locker room)
Thank you for teaching me pride.

The three brothers at the tent on the quad, hour after hour
(who knowingly set me up to police people I had just met)
Thank you for teaching me power.

My unbroken line of Indian friends
(Who call me out on every damn thing I say, this included)
Thank you for teaching me to recognize my own nonsense.

The beautiful redhead, leg covered in potato mash
(who let me bring that bet down from streaking across campus)
Thank you for teaching me compassion.

The professor who danced to my cellphone’s alarm ring
(when I fell asleep during your lecture)
Thank you for teaching me to forgive the little things.

View this story's 1 comments.