I lay awake trying to remember Thanksgiving’s past and find myself wondering about where all the years have gone.  I can vividly recall glimpses of my childhood, of joyful times with family, but they are muddled together like one big movie montage.  I try recalling the holidays of my adulthood and my children’s lives and sadly they too are no less organized.  It is all moving so fast.  Years are melting into one another and changes abound.  Changes that have altered and will continue to alter how I celebrate my favorite holidays. 

When I was a child I loved Thanksgiving.  I loved the entire process of it – waking up to watch the Macy’s parade and helping Mom with preparations for a long day of feasting and laughter.  I distinctly recall cubing bread to make stuffing one year while waiting for Santa to arrive and close out the parade.  Mom would be busy all day in the kitchen making sure the turkey was basted and cooked to perfection while simultaneously preparing endless sides.  We always had a full table – 8 in our family alone- plus whoever happened to be part of it at that time.  There would be friends who needed a place to go and significant others both fleeting and permanent.  I was always surrounded by people I loved.  People who made my childhood so colorful.

Some years we would go to my Aunt Marilyn’s house, mom’s sister, and she’d be busy prepping in her kitchen.  She was a great cook and made the best pies.  I was always impressed by her homemade whipped cream.  I don’t know why but something about watching her whisk cream and sugar to perfection mesmerized me. The image of her at her kitchen island just stays with me.  It’s a composite of all the times I’ve seen her there and I cherish it.  At her house, my brother and I would have our cousins to play with while the preparations were underway.  Sometimes we’d pair off and other times it would be the four of us.  When you’re a child your cousins are your first and best friends. 

As I grew up Thanksgiving changed as much as my life changed.  By the time I was a teen some of the familiar faces had faded and new permanent ones were at the table.  My older siblings would come and go because they also had to celebrate with extended families and children of their own.  Sometimes we’d have to add another leaf to the oak dining table.  The house was always full but never crowded.  A new generation of nieces and nephews was added and I was no longer the youngest at the table.  I had a new role of aunt to fill and I enjoyed every second of it.

But when I became an adult, with a job that did not recognize holidays as a day off, Thanksgiving was drastically different.  I’d be up early and at the zoo all day with a skeleton crew of animal keepers. We were all a bit sad I’m sure, lamenting the holidays of our youth, but we were family.  Those years were some of the best years of my life.  I got to spend time with my zoo crew, people who shared my passion for animals and who made me laugh.  We laughed every day and Thanksgiving was no different.  I’d get home dirty and tired but still want to celebrate with my family.  I’d rush over to wherever the festivities were and eat whatever remained of the sit-down dinner.

Keeping tradition became difficult as the family grew and spread out.  Life events happened– marriages and divorces, births and deaths, new jobs, and far-away moves. Mom’s passing was the singular event that completely rocked Thanksgiving for me because she was my constant throughout all of them.  On a few occasions, those of us remaining in the area tried gathering at our childhood home, but it was missing mom’s touch.  All of us combined could not pull off what that woman had done singlehandedly but we were together and grateful for all the love and laughter we still had.  My mother-in-law started hosting Thanksgiving at her home and graciously extended invites to all my siblings and their children.  It was nice but it wasn’t the same.  I could tell it didn’t feel like home to them.  

Families change.  Priorities change.  We are forced to roll with the changes until we find the perfect fit.  We have to find what makes us feel at home not in the physical sense but in our hearts.  The feeling that makes Thanksgiving the holiday that fills us with so much appreciation and anticipation that we look forward to it year after year.  I finally found that perfect fit when my Aunt Janet and Uncle Peter, Dad’s younger brother, extended the invite to me and my family 9 years ago.  My favorite holiday was renewed.  I now get to spend the day with some of my most beloved people in a home I have known since birth.  My children get to play with my cousin’s children.  I get to spend time in the kitchen with my aunt and cousin who are ideal surrogates for the mom and sister I no longer have.  My husband looks forward to joining us after work. Even my mother-in-law looks forward to it.  She hasn’t hosted a Thanksgiving since! It is a day filled with good food, family, fun, and laughter.  It would still be perfect even if all the food was burnt.  Because it’s not the food that makes the day.  It’s the people and it’s the love. 

So many changes occur over the years.  I can’t stay stuck in the past no matter how wonderful my memories are and  I can’t fantasize about the future because I don’t know what will be, but I can hold on to the present and to the people that fill my life today.  There will always be sadness for what was lost and those losses are so often felt most during the holidays.  But I will not allow my grief to diminish all the wonderful reasons I have to be grateful today.  Today I am thankful for all the memories made and yet to be made.  I am thankful for every loved one gained and lost, new and old, near and far. In the middle of the night, I had lain awake wondering about all the Thanksgivings past – images rolling through my mind like an out-of-control slide show.  I now realize that I don’t need to remember all the details.  I just need to recall the feelings – feelings of love and joy – and if I do that then every day will be a day to give thanks.