Thanksgiving…what does it mean to you?

As Thanksgiving arrives, I find many people posting on Facebook all the things they are thankful for. And though we are naturally thankful more often than the holiday season, I sure enjoy the extra (and cheerful) posts. Growing up it didn’t have a lot of meaning to me because of our home life. As a young adult, my siblings and I made a new tradition. Thanksgiving became very special. We all gathered in one of our homes. The hosting home did the turkey and potatoes and everyone else picked something to bring. With spouses and children in tow, we filled someone’s home and spent the day having a blast. The men usually gathered in the room with the biggest TV and the football game they agreed on. The women found a room (yes, it was mainly the kitchen) and in between chatting about whatever we could think of, we sipped wine, pop, tea, or coffee and found we couldn’t get enough of each other. The children found a spot where they could giggle, watch and play videos, or tease each other…yet, never enough to bring tears. After dinner it was full on game night…there were a few that preferred to be cheerleaders, but for the most part, everyone joined in.

Then life events changed everything. I won’t go into what happened since this isn’t a confessional. Though everyone did their best to keep the tradition alive after the events our special day never fully bloomed again. It had lost its sweet scent, its vibrant color. Never completely wilted, but never caressing life as before. There was simply too much missing. Now, everyone does their own thing. Some stay home in their pajamas eating pizza while binge-watching their favorite show. Others are off to a spouse or mates side of the family. All good alternatives, but nothing will ever compare to the years of my daughter and niece snitching the chocolate pie from the refrigerator and running off to a bedroom to eat themselves sick. Memories of laughing with my siblings until my stomach ached, or enjoying a little more wine than normal and being thankful for the next day off. Realizing that we spent hours preparing a meal that was gobbled up in about fifteen minutes, but left smiles on everyone’s face. Remembering Thanksgiving, November 22, 1979…I was in labor and was stuffing my face in anticipation that my little girl, Kristin, would make her appearance. She waited two more days and came into the world on the 24^th…so she has always been, lovingly, referred to as my “Turkey Baby” – and always will be.

Would I love to recreate that almost Rockwell day…you bet, but until then, should that day ever come, I will be always, and forever, thankful for some of my most precious memories.

I hope all of you have memories to cherish, new ones to make, and someone you love to share them with. Thank you for reading my ramblings, and I hope you have a wonderful Thanksgiving celebration.