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Thanksgiving 1978: My dad, my sister Maria, my brother Chris, my Grandmother, me and my Grandfather– at my grandparents’ house in Reading. My mom must have taken the picture.

This is how my family spent Thanksgiving almost every year when I was a kid.  Thanksgiving was always my favorite holiday. My uncle and his family would come too, and we’d try to arrange the lefties and righties around the table. My grandmother made turkey, potato filling, sweet potatoes, mashed potatoes, creamed corn, regular corn, Cope’s dried corn, and who knows what else. There’d be a point where my grandmother would realize she forgot to bring something out (usually rolls!). And we’d eat till we were completely stuffed. There were always pies and cool whip for dessert, but as the word’s biggest fan of the potato, they were always an afterthought for me.

Things changed after my brother and sister graduated high school and moved out, my parents got divorced, my grandparents moved to an apartment, my grandfather passed away, and then my mother passed away. Since then, I have spent Thanksgiving pretty much wherever I am invited first. We’ve spent it at home alone, with cornish hens; we’ve spent it in Michigan with a large extended family. We’ve gone out to restaurants with my grandmother, and met my in-laws at the midway point between Michigan and Philadelphia. This year, we weren’t going to spend Thanksgiving in Michigan at all, but we managed to make it back last weekend for a nice short visit, and a Thanksgiving meal. Today, we are going to my dad’s house to spend it with Lilia’s grandparents and their friends. I wish I could also spend it with my grandmother, since Thanksgiving, in my mind, is HER holiday. I wish I could spend Thanksgiving with everyone special to me, but I can’t be two places at once, let alone several. All I can do is wish everyone out there a very Happy Thanksgiving, and hope that you are not as torn between places to celebrate as I am.