Growing up poor meant Thanksgiving was just another day. In 2010, while at my friend Layla’s house, the smell of real holiday food overwhelmed me. I sneaked a taste of gravy—something we never had. Her mom caught me and snapped, “Is this how your mother raised you?” Shame burned through me. But that night, when I opened my backpack, I froze. Inside was a warm Tupperware of turkey, stuffing, and mashed potatoes… and a note: “No child should go hungry on Thanksgiving.
