Extinct

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CHANNEL TWO SAID the storm wouldn’t hit until Sunday, but they were wrong, as usual. Winter hit like a hammer, right on Thanksgiving Day.

Nobody stuck around on the little island off the coast of Maine for the holiday. Thanksgiving had always been a quiet day with most of the residents traveling back to the mainland to visit family. Last Christmas, almost a thousand people inhabited the island. On the Fourth of July, with all the summer folks and people over for the day, you could have found more than thirty-five hundred. But on Thanksgiving the island was like a ghost town.

For Robby Pierce, this would be his first Thanksgiving ever on the island. He usually went with his mom over to Grandma’s house and stayed the weekend. Dad was always too busy with the ferry to take any time off to visit his mother-in-law’s. This year, Robby sat in the front room by the window with his book and watched the snow fall while his mom crashed about in the kitchen. This was her first year cooking the turkey alone and having to cram it into a small oven. Robby smiled. He missed his grandmother, but he was thrilled he would finally eat Thanksgiving dinner with his mom and dad as a family.

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