People say their favorite holiday is Thanksgiving: no rushing around (except to get that turkey on the table), no gifts to wrap, no crush of holiday shopping. Just the natural warmth overflowing from a holiday filled with food, friends and family getting together to share and give thanks.
Personally, I’m prone to memories of childhood Thanksgivings at home in Colorado, my native state. It was there one year that we gathered in the dining room of my aunt and uncle’s home at a table laden with delicious dishes, savory old favorites fragrant with spices and herbs, served each year on Thanksgiving.
As my uncle carved the turkey, my mother’s gaze moved to the window and the world outside. She uttered a short cry of surprise because beyond the lacy curtains covering the window, large snowflakes softly fell. We watched with wonder as snow piled up, covering the mound of leaves raked by the front porch. Snow held fast to trees and bushes and to the grass, which had already faded to its winter coat of flaxen gold. Across the street homes lining the avenue began resembling a Christmas village.
Throughout dinner the snow fell. By the time my grandmother served pumpkin pie topped with heaps of glossy whipped cream, the windows were framed in frost and the fading light outside highlighted the golden glow spilling onto the snow from the windows of neighboring houses.
I looked around at the people I loved gathered at that Thanksgiving table so many years ago. In an era when folks still “dressed” for Thanksgiving dinner, the men wore white shirts and ties, the women high heels and good dresses protected by frothy aprons.
By the time the food was consumed and the good dishes were washed and set away, the streetlights shone down on a world of sparkling white.
Soon we were bundled up for the annual ride to see the rows of Christmas lights and bells that stretched across the wide main boulevard downtown. The city’s holiday lights were lit for the first time of the season on Thanksgiving evening – and not a moment before.
Laughing, we plodded and picked our way to the waiting automobiles through the newly fallen snow, the women treading carefully in their inappropriate-for-snow high heels and stockings, holding tightly to the arms of the men. I joined my cousins in sliding and skidding on the walkways, joyously celebrating the first snow of the season.
We didn’t have far to drive, just over the bridge and around the corner when there it was! Lights blinked on in perfect unison, the great red bells in the center of each garland all-aglow.
Of course everyone knows that nothing lasts forever – except for the warm memories that have carried me through these many years to a different time and a new kind of thankfulness.
This year our family gathered in early November to plan Thanksgiving. Amid the squeals and cries of my two daughters’ little ones, we hastily sketched out the Thanksgiving menu, deciding who will contribute what for dinner and determining that Thanksgiving would be hosted again here in our home.
So it was with a grateful heart on a recent warm November morning that I relaxed on the front deck of our home. A golden shower of leaves from the tall birch collected over the redwood floor and upon the outdoor furniture that will soon be hidden away beneath protective covers until spring.
As I lingered over my magazine with its Thanksgiving recipes, sipping my freshly brewed latte amongst the generous scattering of fall leaves, I recognized how we have so very much for which to be thankful. Something as simple as sitting in the glorious California sun in November is reason to celebrate. And of course there is so much more.
The people I loved on that long ago snowy Thanksgiving are all gone now, replaced by a new and just as beloved family of husband, daughters, sons-in-law and four precious grandchildren. Thanksgiving: What’s not to love? It’s about friends and family, giving thanks and giving back.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!

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