I don't own the TMNT

I wasn't going to do a holiday story, but this hit me like a kick in the head when I was watching the parade and I just had to do it. I literally wrote this bad boy in a little over an hour, so sorry if it seems a bit rushed. Luckily my husband insists on doing the cooking, that is his baby, so I had some time and I wanted to post this before Thanksgiving is over. First holiday fic, really hope you like it!

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I looked at my sons, who were quietly eating their breakfast. Their demeanor did not match the holiday. They should be happy, giddy, looking forward to dinner.

It was Thanksgiving. In truth, when I first came to America, I had known very little about the holiday. It was a purely American holiday, not celebrated anywhere else. At first it confused me. The historical facts were grossly innacurate. Even the food that was considered traditional, literally did not ever even grace the table at the first Thanksgiving that was supposedly celebrated.

So I never really tried to celebrate it in the way that was done by the people around me. Then I was mutated, this only made the entire idea all the more difficult. It was hard enough to be able to scrounge enough food for a full meal on a normal day. How was I supposed to find a feast without being seen? Especially such rich food as was expected?

So, again, I didn't celebrate it.

This was not a problem, until my academic prodgeny, Donatello, at the young age of 7, was finally able to get a television working, and soon afterwards managed to get basic cable. Though I had no idea how he was able to get that, I saw not real harm in it.

Until the first holiday time came around.

Then their young minds were accosted with storybook images of laughing families, big feasts, and basic merriment.

Suddenly having a 'real Thanksgiving' was on the top of their minds. They wanted a feast. They wanted to be just like the other children, who they saw laughing on the screen. They knew that they were without and they wanted at least a slice of what everyone else seemed to have and take for granted.

What was I supposed to do?

So, I tried my best. But food was always hard to come by at that time of year. Though a lot of food is donated, it is kept under strict lock and key due to a lot of theft. So that year our 'Thanksgiving Feast' was very meager. I couldn't come by any meat. Most of the vegetables that I found were either canned or half rotten. I had some bread, as well as some canned peaches for a treat, but that was it.

I could tell that my sons were severely let down. Despite their knowledge of the reality of our lives, despite everything, their young, childish minds had built up the idea that maybe, maybe, we could for once have something that everyone else had. It didn't require expensive gifts, or difficult to come by sweets, it was simply a large meal that somehow seemed to bring everyone together.

I tried to warn them, to remind them how difficult things were to come by for us. They nodded in agreement, but I could still see that child-like innocence, that thought in their eyes. It crushed me to see it shattered. It was like a slap in their faces, the reminder screaming at them that this was just another way that they were different. Just like everything else. I tried to let them know that we could still be thankful for what we had, for our family. Again, they agreed, but their demeanor was already shattered. It was too late.

The next year was even worse. The weather was terrible and our Thanksgiving meal consisted of oatmeal.

So now, as the day rolled around once more, my heart grew heavy. Yes, they were older. They were nine years old and could better understand our situation, but I could still feel the melancholy that seemed to ooze from their pores.

I wracked my brain. I truly wanted this day to be special. The feast was hit or miss. That always depended on whatever I could scrounge together, whatever was available to my sneaky paws. Trying to be thankful for what we had was not as special. In truth, we did that on a daily basis. All we had was each other and we knew it. Though we paid special attention to it on the Thanksgiving Day, the children needed something else. They needed something else to make it special, to not feel so different and detached from all the other children their age.

As my sons slowly put away their dishes and quietly went to play, I frowned. I wanted to do something for them. I needed to. It pained me to see them like this.

What was my first Thanksgiving like? I smiled at the memory. It had truly surprised me. I had been in New York for a few months, not truly paying attention to the fuss around me. I was still very depressed over losing Tang Shen and Miwa back in Japan, it seemed that nothing could break me from my melancholy.

Then I saw the parade.

Even me, a lone foreigner, couldn't help but stare wide eyed at the dancing, the pageantry, the colorful and energetic floats, the enormous balloons. For that time, at least, I was able to clear my mind and have a real smile.

Of course! Why did I not think of it before!

I looked at the time.

If we hurried, we would make it.

"My sons!" All their heads went up.

"Yes Father?"

I smiled. Immediately, they were puzzled. My smile broadened. "Quickly, let us gather some snacks and a few drinks together. Then follow me. We are going out."

Their faces brightened. They hardly got a chance to leave the Lair, and though they only really got to explore the sewers they still looked forward to a chance to leave. So, like scurrying little bunnies, they darted this way and that. Filling up their plastic water bottles with fresh water, gathering up some small apples and other types of healthy fruit that New Yorkers for some reason were always eager to throw away, they packed our bag in record time. Leonardo looked up at me. "Where are we going, Master Splinter?"

I looked at the bright light shining in his eyes. I smiled. Yes, this is exactly what I wanted to see on their faces. "It is a surprise." With that, I turned around and walked away with a few folded chairs under my arm, listening to them throw their bags on their shoulders and scamper after me.

It was a longer walk than what they were used to. Of course, I walk such distances on a daily basis on my constant search for food and supplies. I knew this area well. After a single, stern warning they stopped inquiring and whining about the walk and the destination.

I wanted it to be a surprise.

I knew exactly where to go. Even as we neared it, the dull roar slowly became louder. It was clear that a great many people were above us, and it frightened them. Never before had they been near so many humans, but they followed without complaint though they did cling tighter to my robe. I could even feel some tiny hands trembling. We came to a more shallow area of the sewer, an area that served more as a storm drain than anything else, yet the ceiling was low enough that with the chairs that I brought they should be able to see well enough.

The storm drain was long and narrow, with just enough space that each of us could see with little difficulty. Setting up the chairs, I smiled at my sons. They still looked very nervous. The roar of the people, especially with it bouncing off the walls, was near deafening. I motioned them to me. Talking right now would be pointless, they would not be able to hear me in any case.

Leonardo was the first to approach, his knees trembling slightly as he neared the bright opening where the noise from all the humans were, the same humans that I had raised them to fear and avoid. Yet he did not protest when I picked him up and set him on the chair. When I managed to get him to look out of the opening, his face immediately became alit in wonder and his eyes bright with delight. His mouth opened in a wide smile, one that melted my heart. In seeing the look on their brother's face, the other three were quick to follow. I set them each on their own chair, then joined them to look out the storm drain.

There, street level, was the beginning of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade. I had picked the spot perfectly, we were able to see the dancers that always proceeded the floats, balloons and bands. It was also the locations where all of them stopped to do their performances. Though there was a risk that someone would look into the storm drain, I was not too worried about it. With the parade starting, all eyes were on the pageantry.

We stayed the entire time. Sooner than I thought, they seemed to forget the need for silence among the deafening roar, which was fine since no one would have been able to hear them anyway. They made excited exclamations at each colorful float, talked animatedly amongst themselves, and clapped and cheered as if they were one with the crowd. Even I became lost in the moment. As we watched, we were able to forget who we were, what we were, and how different we were from everyone else. For that time, I could tell, we were truly one with the rest of New York City. We were just like everyone else, only better. After all, how many people can get such excellent seats?

The entire parade went by like a dream. We stayed together, as a family, and took it all in. It was truly a precious time.

Even as it came to an end, their energetic excitement was still brimming. They hopped about me as we made our way back to the Lair, and immediately began to put together their own haphazard float as soon as we made it back. I found it very cute.

I ducked out to make one last run, and came across a pleasant surprise. A full chicken from a neglectful inner city grocer, along with several ears of corn and a bag of potatoes. On the way back I even acquired some cans of peaches. Coupled with the bread that we already had at home, it would truly be a feast.

They seemed slightly secretive when I came back, but they became even more excited when they saw all the food that I managed to bring back. We cooked it together as a family. We had no seasonings for any of the food except for some basic salt and pepper, but we didn't care. We baked the potatoes with some cheap margarine, cooked the chicken in its own fat with the same margarine brushed on its skin and boiled the corn. Though I was tempted to ration out the food, as I often do when we come across a lot, this time I decided against it. Let us truly have a feast. So we ate until we could eat no more. True, it was not nearly as glorious as the dinners that they saw on the television, but we were riding on our post parade high and knew that such a feast was rare so we took full advantage.

It was then that I truly realized why Americans love Thanksgiving so much. Yes, preparing the meal was a fuss but the excitement seemed so thick in the air, the children laughed, played, teased and overall enjoyed themselves. The meal was full of conversation. Everything was warm, inviting, and friendly. Was this what a real Thanksgiving was like? If it was, then perhaps this could be my favorite American holiday.

I was surprised when, at the end of our meal, my sons volunteered to clear the table. In fact, they even seemed excited about it. But of course I did not complain and sat in my old chair, smiling at the day.

Then I realized the reason for their excitement and their earlier secrecy.

Leonardo hopped into view, grinning from ear to ear, arms held out in a grandiose gesture. "Master Splinter!" He sang in a booming, dramatic voice. "I now present to you, the very best Thanksgiving Day float EVER!"

Stepping aside Donatello and Michelangelo marched into view, twirling sticks like batons. Between them was an actual float, constructed out of an old wagon. On top of it was a slightly messy looking semblance of a brown rat in a red robe, made of old blankets covering what appeared to be twisted metal coat hangers. Stick like arms waved out wildly, presumably by Raphael hiding inside.

It was a float of me.

I could not believe it. Standing up, I looked in happy shock. "My sons! Look at what you did!"

They bounced up to me, including Raphael coming out from an opening in the back. They had bright and excited looks on their faces, all four grinning from ear to ear. "Do you like it?"

Tears brimmed at my eyes as I knelt down and embraced all four of them. "Of course I like it! I love it! Why did you do this?"

Michelangelo looked up at me with a wide smile. "Because you're the BEST Daddy EVER and we're so happy 'cause we have you!"

Leonardo hopped up and down. "Yes, we're thankful that we have you as a Father!"

"WE LOVE YOU!" They all chorused in unison.

I hugged them all tighter. "No, it is I who am thankful to have such wonderful sons. No Father in the world is more blessed than I."

Embracing each other, we collapsed in a giggling heap, all tickling each other in happy, wreckless abandon.

Thankful indeed.

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I know, a smidgen of artistic license was used here, but I thought it would work. PLEASE leave a review, let me know what you think! If you like it, I might do more holiday chapter (hence the title). Hope you like it!

ATTENTION: Don't forget that we're doing the voting on possibly changing the nomination categories for the TMNT Fanfic Competition. Please put in your vote! Nominations will be starting sooner than you think! PM me if you have any further questions. The Stealthy Stories (the hosting site) link is on my profile.