why thanksgiving

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It’s Thanksgiving weekend. Traditionally, my favorite holiday when the goal is time, turkey and talking smack over the K-Stateopoly board or Uno.

Why do many of us love Thanksgiving?

Thanksgiving does not often carry the stress of pre-gathering gift buying and wrapping and the decorations are usually simpler (or non-existent) of other holidays.

There is often walking to burn off a bit of turkey and pie. Football games in the field behind the house or on the telly. Stories new and retold. Homemade cinnamon rolls to welcome the horde or to pack and send home for later homecomings.

We are around the table.

We are the big show. Family. Friends. Stick bacon (bacon cooked over a fire and slathered over a stick – best at one of the cabins by the lake). Pie.

We know our belonging. When the family and framily is home, we can look to the left and right and recognize our people. We belong with these laughing goofy people and that is enough.

As easily as we recognize great aunt Marge’s green gelatin surprise casserole and our dad’s signature laugh hyucking in from the driveway, we recognize ourselves in these people gathered around. And if the people to the left and right are not family by blood, they might be family by character with the same sorts of inside jokes, shenanigans and board-game-induced smack talk.

We are the big show. This time of slowing pace and pitching in and washing up side-by-side while some others snore loudly in front of the sportstering. The sweatpants and cup of coffee mornings and curled up – post-sledding if you’re lucky – fighting for a favorite blanket among favorite people.

It’s the people. Gratitude. Time. Story…stories woven in the long play of living.

I hope you enjoy your Thanksgiving weekend whether on the beach, in the mountains, up in the city or at the farm…alone or in a big boisterous puppy pile of people.

Enjoy the rest. And if you are not where you want to be or are missing some of your people, reach out. Tell someone. Don’t be a martyr. Worthy people are less interested in our perfection than in our presence. Call them. Call home. Invite a stranger to tea.

Much love and derring do.


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