The “meat section” of my family’s Thanksgiving spread.
Now that Thanksgiving is over, I have happily started getting into the Christmas spirit. When I was little, I was obsessed with Christmas. I would cry when Christmas Day was over. Christmas Eve was my favorite day because it was the height of Christmas Day anticipation. I would not sleep all night waiting for Santa to drop off my Christmas presents. I will never forget the smell of my mother’s cooking wafting up from downstairs as I closed my eyes and tried to sleep. She was the best cook I’ve ever witnessed. And Christmas was the only magic I’ve ever witnessed.
So Thanksgiving never got it’s due in my mind until I was older. Honestly, Thanksgiving used to be just an inconvenience on the road to Christmas euphoria. But as the years passed, I began to appreciate Thanksgiving for what it had to offer. After all, over the years Christmas turned into a rush to buy gifts for everyone. The simplicity of Thanksgiving began to grow favor with me— just food and family. Just eating and enjoying each other’s company. That’s magical in itself, if you ask me.
Nothing will ever eclipse Christmas for me, but I do love Thanksgiving. I love cooking in the kitchen with my grandmother and wearing her aprons from 50+ years ago as we laugh and talk. I love watching everyone attack the buffet of food, which is all made with love (and let’s be real— a little frustration, too— we all have to work full time and create this buffet of food). I love hearing the screams while we all watch the Cowboys game. I love finally busting out the Christmas music as we clean the kitchen. It all makes me happy.
Thanksgiving gets my respect for what it is. It always makes me smile. It also always makes me gain 2 pounds. But that’s ok— because I’ll never forget all the memories of putting on my Grandma’s aprons and dancing to Jackson 5 Christmas as we clean the kitchen. Nothing can replace that joy. Shout out to Thanksgiving.
