By Michele Leight, for Ashraya-New York

New York City - Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It makes complete sense that this unique holiday of giving thanks was created in America - in 1621 - by one of the first pilgrims, who must have been overjoyed to get off the Mayflower after a long, choppy sea voyage.

And what a great country awaited them! That first Thanksgiving dinner must have been amazing.

History was - and is - important to my Mother. Even her most mundane stories meander off onto historical facts and dates, tales of bravery - especially military honor - and if she can squeeze in a line of a favorite poem, or tell you about Errol Flynn or cowboys along the way, she will.

As a child, I was fascinated by my Mother's adoration for America. She is not American, so this passion should have been confusing to me, but it wasn't. Everything about my Mother makes sense to me. I learned about the Civil War because my Mother had more books about it than any other subject. She loved Robert Frost, and e.e. cummings. When I said he spelled his name wrong, it should be E.E. Cummings, she said that was allowed in America. Any country that allowed a famous poet to bypass the rigid rules and regulations of grammar and punctuation had my attention.

I learned about the American "fall," and maple leaves, from my Mother's books of poetry.

She said she loved America because Americans were free.

These are tumultuous times, but this is still the greatest country on earth for those that value individual freedom - freedom to be who you want to be.

There is a lot that needs fixing in America - people are protesting in the streets, disillusioned, feeling cut off from the American Dream - but there is also so much to be grateful for.

In America there are no street children staring at you through a car window at traffic intersections, begging for money, or selling trinkets. That is a sight I never get used to, no matter how many times I see those vulnerable children in other countries.

There is poverty in America, however, and enormous disparities between the haves and have-nots, but it is still a country that offers the most chances to those that hope for them.

Today I experienced both Americas. The America of the haves and the have nots.

In anticipation of Thanksgiving, people in my neighborhood were dashing into stores to buy flowers, wine, food, pies and cookies, plants, and all those wonderful things we give and receive for Thanksgiving. The store windows are filled with pumpkins, gorgeous maple leaves, pine cones and the warm glow of "fall" colors.

Some stores are already gearing up for the Holidays, with shimmering ornaments, reindeer speckled with tinsel, and chubby teddy bears in red coats in the storefront windows. This is a Norman Rockwell neighborhood, brimming over with children, with their wonderful, life affirming energy. I think of the troops overseas, without their children this Thanksgiving, and the Mother in the photograph shown above, that lost her son. These are the finest people on earth. Americans.

There are no children seated on the sidewalk, in rags, or chasing after me for money here, like there are in so many countries. The child in the photograph above was sold at birth by her mother - or so the story goes - who was a prostitute. The long version of her mother's life is a tragedy no one would want to know about. Essentially, she married young - trustingly. Her husband turned out to be a pimp, who put her into the sex trade against her wishes. The only way she could deal with the betrayal, degradation and pain was to drink. She became a hopeless alcoholic, often found lying in the streets outside the brothel. Her husband probably arranged for the sale of the infant. This story follows a pattern I have heard many times when people are poor and marginalized. Usually, these families sell one child, so they can survive. In this situation, both mother and daughter were victims. It is almost certain that the husband was himself victimized as a boy - and forced to become the family pimp.

The little baby is safe and sound. She is one of the lucky ones. A wonderful organization rescued her, and she is loved and cared for. I believe her mother is a victim of poverty. But this child cannot be risked any further. It is a miracle she was rescued.

Miracles do happen. She will go to school. This is the first step out of the vicious, horrific cycle of poverty, that puts so many children like her at risk all over the world.

There is poverty in America too. It is just not as obvious.

Yesterday, a woman was standing in front of me in the check out line in a supermarket with a very large turkey in her arms. Nothing else. She looked tired - or "worn out" as my Mother would say.

My mother was always conscious of those that looked "worn out" as she called it.

My father dreaded it when he heard my Mother say someone was "worn out," because she would then come to him with some request for money for that person. He usually gave in to all her requests, despite heartfelt complaints that his wife could only afford to be a Good Samaritan on his dime.

Deep down he felt less guilty about the poverty he witnessed, when he helped others through her.

The woman in the supermarket asked me if I had a rewards card, which the supermarket gives some customers, and I said "yes." She asked if she could use it to buy her turkey, because with a rewards card she would get 6 dollars off the purchase price of the turkey;

"I really want to see my kids eat this turkey on Thanksgiving," she said.

"Of course" I said. It was a beautiful, plump, turkey.

It is baffling that all customers are not given rewards cards. Especially those that really need them.

The cashier was kind, and did not give me or her a hard time about swiping my rewards card for her turkey but she did say:

"But you get the points."

I asked the cashier if the "points" would reward me a trip to the Bahamas some day, or something, and she laughed.

Meanwhile, the woman looked anxious as the price of the turkey appeared on the screen.

Then, like magic, $6 did come off the grand total with a swipe of my rewards card.

If I was ever grateful for that rewards card it was at that moment. She reached into her pocket and pulled out one twenty dollar bill. Then she dug around some more and three very crumpled single dollar bills emerged.

She had exactly enough money for the turkey.

I was getting ready to pay for the turkey but I saw a look in the woman's eyes I have seen so often in the eyes of the poor - they want to pay what they can afford. They want to pay something. She had her pride and dignity to uphold - one of the few things the poor do own.

When I exited the supermarket, the woman was waiting for me. She yelled out "thank you" as I passed. I thanked her back, and wished her a Happy Thanksgiving.

My Mother would have had a long conversation with her.

When I eat turkey on Thanksgiving Day I will think of the woman I met in a supermarket eating that plump turkey with her kids.

I think she was a single Mom. She did not mention their father eating with them.