Having Enough...The difference between desires and needs was a lesson she never forgot.

It was an ordinary day. Reading an article in my "Good Old Days" Magazine titled "Having enough."  Story is about the difference between desires and needs and a lesson that the young girl never forgot.  Story began with..... I awoke to a familiar sound of dishes rattling in Mother's kitchen and to the scent of coffee wafting through the air.  I glanced out my bedroom window.  The neighborhood was lit by the first rays of the day shining through a thin layer of gray clouds like sunshine through a stained-glass window.  The trees, no longer wearing their virescent hues of spring and summer, were draped in scarlet, gold and copper.  Mesmerized, I watched the leaves falling off the trees as they gently swayed in the November wind.  A sign rose in my throat as I thought about all that was lacking that Thanksgiving Day.  I joined Mother in the kitchen, mildly curious about the Thanksgiving brunch she'd planned for us at an undeveloped park on the outskirts of town.  Instead of busying herself cooking the usual Thanksgiving fare, Mother prepared a thermos of hot cocoa for my brothers and me and another thermos of coffee for her and Father.  "This will be fun, sweetie.  It'll be a Thanksgiving to remember. Wait and see."  I smiled to cover my disappointment and helped Mother pack a box with the utensils she needed - a cast-iron skillet, tin plates, silverware, charcoal briquettes, matches, a spatula and two wooden spoons.  Dad loaded the box into this truck while my brothers and I clambered into the truck bed.  he pumped the gas pedal several times until his cranky jalopy sputtered into action.  On the way to the park, Dad pulled into the parking lot of a local grocery store.  Through the rear windshield I watched my parents cull through their pockets, the seat cushions, and the glove box, gathering all the loose change they could find.  "This should be enough," Mother said in a thrilled voice.  She scurried out of the truck and into the store.  Minutes later, she emerged smiling, with two dozen eggs, a pound of bacon, and a small loaf of bread in her arms.  Once at the park, my brothers and I bolted from the truck, frolicking in the leaves as we made a pathway that led to an old, abandoned farmhouse tucked among some trees.  While they explored the farmhouse, I sat on a log and closed my eyes, reminiscing about previous Thanksgivings and yearning for a piece of mother's pumpkin pie topped with a dollop of whipped cream.  I inhaled slowly, taking in all the crisp autumn air my lungs could hold before slowly expelling it.  The smell of sizzling bacon drifted by, and in the distance I heard Dad whistling and Mother singing as they fried bacon and eggs over a crackling fire, seemingly oblivious to the fact that our grim financial situation prevented us from celebrating Thanksgiving as we always had with turkey, dressing and all the trimmings.  "Come and get it!"  Mother hollered, clanging her spoon on one of the tin plates to get our attention.  We dashed toward them and sat on the ground, warming our hands on the open fire, its flames curling and swaying as they burned the dry wood.  I looked at the fried eggs and bacon mother scooped onto our tin plates, focusing on the meager amount she'd given each of us.  "Let us give thanks, for we have enough, "Dad said, his face beaming.  Enough?  How could this small amount of food possibly be enough?  I was irritate and wanted to snap back and complain, but resisted the urge to do so.  Rather than quickly devouring eggs and bacon as I usually did, I bit into the bacon, letting it slowly break over my tongue, relishing it as if I were eating it for the very first time.  In was perfectly prepared, crispy and salty.  The eggs, too, were cooked to perfection with the slightly runny yolks intact and no raw parts remaining.  Maybe it was the fresh air.  Maybe it was m dad's words.  But without warning, tears misted in my eyes.  These were not tears of lacking; rather these were tears of sheer joy in realizing that the eggs and bacon tasted better than the turkey and dressing I would've eaten if circumstances head been different.  Despite my tender age, my heart softened, and the lacking I had felt vanished, replaced with love, appreciation and thankfulness for my parents, their attitudes, and their willingness to make an ordinary Thanksgiving meal a memorable one despite their difficulties and financial woes.  Mother was right.  The day was a memorable one, and I remember it as if it were yesterday.  Having enough that Thanksgiving was a blessing in disguise -- a lesson in gratitude that to this day helps me focus on the differences between my needs and my desires.  having enough has diminished many of my life's disappointments.  It has also given me grit, grace and an overwhelming feeling of thankfulness, even in the face of my own adversities.  It was another extraordinary day in the life of an ordinary guy.