On Thanksgiving, lots of people watch the Macy’s parade. There are floats and bands and giant balloons. But my family hosts a different kind of parade. A parade of pies!​

When we go to Aunt Rosie’s for Thanksgiving dinner, everyone brings their favorite pie. There are apple pies and pumpkin pies. There are pecan pies and chocolate pies. Grandma always bakes an old-fashioned buttermilk pie. Uncle Jim buys a coconut cream pie at the diner on his way downtown.​

After dinner, we’re all too full for pie right away. We lay around in the living room, telling stories and playing games. Some of my relatives watch football on TV. Others start clearing the table and putting the leftovers away.​

When the game is over and the kitchen is clean, Aunt Rosie rings a big, brass bell. That’s the signal. The parade of pies is about to begin! ​

​This year, Mama said I was old enough to bake my own pie to bring. I found a recipe in one of her magazines. It’s called a cranberry crumble pie, and it has heaps of bright red cranberries underneath a golden, crumbly crust.​

​I grab it from the kitchen while everyone else gets their too. Then we all walk around the dining room table holding our pies for everyone to see. After we make a loop around, we all find our places. Time for the feast to begin!​

​Everyone take a bite of each pie and writes down their favorite on a little piece of paper. We’re not allowed to show anyone who we vote for. ​

Every year I’ve voted for the same pie. It’s my favorite. This year I want to vote for my own cranberry crumble, but that wouldn’t be fair. It’s not my favorite. ​

After everyone has voted, Uncle Jim tallies the results. The pie I voted for won! Aunt Rosie gives the winner a prize – the coveted parade of pies apron. One day I’ll wear it. But for now, I run to hug Grandma as she slips it over her head.