About 4-5 years ago, I started cooking Thanksgiving dinner at my house. My family, in-laws, and streams of friends are usually here to help us celebrate. I really like that tradition. I like having friends at my Thanksgiving table and not just family. It feels less forced, for some reason.
I’m very thankful I started doing that a few years ago, so that this Thanksgiving wouldn’t have been my first. We had decided a month or so ago that we’d go south and do Thanksgiving at my grandmother’s. And when she passed away, we decided to just do it at my dad’s. Because my sister had already asked off from work for the week. And it would be a good chance to go through some stuff in her house. Etc.
Part of me was a little sad that there would be no Thanksgiving at my house. None of my friends present. But overall, I thought it was probably a good idea for this year.
We had the nicest Thanksgiving imaginable. It was a very slow and warm day. Football, video games, crunching in leaves. Lots of help in the kitchen for me. A really yummy meal. And I didn’t wash a single dish.
I can’t explain why it was so nice. It shouldn’t have been. But I think maybe it was because we all felt at peace that life was marching on, and that my family was going to find a new happy normal after all the crap we’d waded through this year. I love spending time with my brother and sister and my dad. And we all had a fun time – watching movies, talking, playing games. It was just very nice.
I’m ever so thankful that this first holiday was a nice one.