Christmas Dinner
ENGL 1301 – Section 4
Narrative essay
June 13, 2012
The Making of Christmas Dinner
“Caitlyn, get downstairs now!” frantically screamed my mother. The sound of her nervous voice made me spring from the bed and quickly scramble down the stairs to the kitchen. As I slid around the corner and headed toward the kitchen, I encountered a large, foggy cloud of strong smoke. “Mom, what’s going on?” I screeched. She was grabbing the bright red fire extinguisher from under the sink to avert the fire coming from the oven. She opened the oven door to see flames coming from our Christmas turkey. Flames were leaping out from the roaster pan when she unleashed the fire extinguisher dousing the smoldering carcass.
I didn’t understand what had happened. It was Christmas Eve morning, and my mom had been working on the special plans for a family dinner for days. By this time, my sisters were also in the kitchen, wondering what was causing such a commotion. We all agreed that the turkey was as good as road kill. Mom dumped the turkey in the outside trash barrels and came back into the kitchen to decide how we could switch to an alternative plan. As the awful smell of burned turkey filled the kitchen, mother explained that she had forgotten to reduce the temperature of the oven before she went to bed last night. We were all grateful the whole kitchen wasn’t on fire!
I felt horrible for my mom. This was going to be the first year to have the entire family come to our house for dinner. We all looked at each other with the question, “What are we going to do?” My mom said that she and my dad could drive to Tyler to buy a Greenburg turkey already cooked. That sounded like the best plan. “However,” she added, “you girls will have to finish the side dishes.” We all looked at each other with uneasy expressions on our faces. Could we do this? Without really thinking about what we were agreeing to do, we said,
Narrative essay
June 13, 2012
The Making of Christmas Dinner
“Caitlyn, get downstairs now!” frantically screamed my mother. The sound of her nervous voice made me spring from the bed and quickly scramble down the stairs to the kitchen. As I slid around the corner and headed toward the kitchen, I encountered a large, foggy cloud of strong smoke. “Mom, what’s going on?” I screeched. She was grabbing the bright red fire extinguisher from under the sink to avert the fire coming from the oven. She opened the oven door to see flames coming from our Christmas turkey. Flames were leaping out from the roaster pan when she unleashed the fire extinguisher dousing the smoldering carcass.
I didn’t understand what had happened. It was Christmas Eve morning, and my mom had been working on the special plans for a family dinner for days. By this time, my sisters were also in the kitchen, wondering what was causing such a commotion. We all agreed that the turkey was as good as road kill. Mom dumped the turkey in the outside trash barrels and came back into the kitchen to decide how we could switch to an alternative plan. As the awful smell of burned turkey filled the kitchen, mother explained that she had forgotten to reduce the temperature of the oven before she went to bed last night. We were all grateful the whole kitchen wasn’t on fire!
I felt horrible for my mom. This was going to be the first year to have the entire family come to our house for dinner. We all looked at each other with the question, “What are we going to do?” My mom said that she and my dad could drive to Tyler to buy a Greenburg turkey already cooked. That sounded like the best plan. “However,” she added, “you girls will have to finish the side dishes.” We all looked at each other with uneasy expressions on our faces. Could we do this? Without really thinking about what we were agreeing to do, we said,