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It’s Thanksgiving Day tomorrow, so I’ve been thinking about my cherished moments, growing up.
Every Thanksgiving, we’d go to my grandparents’ house. My grandmother and aunt putting together all those culinary delights the day before. Then, they got up at 4 am on Thanksgiving morning to put the turkey in the oven; and the cooking would continue through the day. Of course, I’d take every opportunity to snatch a bite here-and-there. My grandmother would cut up pickles for the tray, and I remember grabbing a pickle (or two).
The Meaning of Thanksgiving
With my brother’s death this year, my experience with cancer, and my son nearing his fourth birthday–this Thanksgiving takes on a whole new level of significance this year.
I wish that we were closer to the friends and family that I knew growing up. I wish that my son could experience the overflowing house (and dinner table), as we all got together to enjoy laughs and great food.
