It’s no secret that Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. Regardless of my birthday on the 4th of July and the Derby (which is DEFINITELY considered a holiday for those of us in Louisville), it’s Thanksgiving that always gives me the warm fuzzies. There’s no underlying motive- no pressure to pain-stakingly gift hunt, no obligation of buying a pink heart-shaped box of chocolates, no real religious undertones. Thanksgiving- just a day to call friends and family, and invite them to dinner.
This year, of course, was a little difficult, as it’s the first holiday season without Daddy. We decided that the easiest way to move forward was to open the house to friends, inviting those who may not have had anywhere else to go, asking entire families to shrug off roasting the perfect turkey, and letting me be the one to worry about possibly overdone poultry. 22 pounds of bird and 16 people later, we feasted for 8 hours, with friends making themselves at home on our stairs and sprawling in front of the fireplace, getting up every hour or so to stretch and grab another slice of pie.
Like clockwork, we listened to Alice’s Restaurant at noon and 6pm, and I swear, I could almost feel and smell B’s mother’s fireplace burning in Cleveland. Thanksgiving just always feels like home. After everyone left, and my mom made her way upstairs, I laid on the man’s lap and took a breath. Our squishy little beagle curled up by my feet, and even though 2016 has been such a year of loss and heartache, I still found myself thankful- thankful for my teeny family and the opportunity we have to host holidays, thankful for our incredible home, which- despite its small size- can accomodate countless friends and family. Thankful for the way that Bryan breathes and half snores when he’s eaten too much turkey, and thankful for the way our dog does the same thing.
It’s been a difficult year, friends, yet as I sit here, I can’t help but think of how fortunate I am… Isn’t that what thanksgiving is, after all?