Since we had our family Thanksgiving yesterday, I've been trying to think back all those years to my childhood Thanksgivings. At first I found it rather odd that I couldn't seem to remember anything really specific about them. Years ago, though, I heard that the best memories children have aren't those extravagant birthday or Christmas gifts, nor those vacations to Disney World, but they're the ones about snuggling at bedtime and having a book read to them, or the impromptu singing and dancing that their parents did when they heard a certain song on the radio.
I'm fairly certain when I was really young, like four and five years old, my older sisters brought a friend home for Thanksgiving dinner. They were in college at that time and there were always a few students who couldn't go home for the holiday, so they were welcomed at our house.
The only other thing I remember at the moment is that us "kids," my brother Mike and me, were each given one of the turkey legs, the drumsticks. They seemed as big as my arm and I couldn't even finish eating mine.
We didn't live near any other family members, so we never spent Thanksgiving at a relative's home. But I was perfectly happy with My family and My home, and never felt like I was missing anything.
(As I've mentioned before, these happy memories are from the years before my parents split up.Things changed after that.)
“We often take for granted the very things that most deserve our gratitude.” –Cynthia Ozick
