My First Thanksgiving as a Real Grown-Up

I survived my first holiday without my parents. It was my first Thanksgiving as a real grown up, where my sisters and I were the oldest generation at the table, and nobody was there to tell us what we needed to do. Although it started with a clogged drain at midnight last night and ended with a movie marathon, it was just like every other Thanksgiving before, only Mom and Dad weren't here. I think that familiarity is the reason behind traditions. Through the repetition of the past, we provide ourselves with continuity for the future.

I was thinking as I was shopping for the ingredients for our usual corn pudding and my mom's apple pie, that this could be the year we could have taco bar instead of turkey. We could have spaghetti and meatballs instead of sweet potato casserole. Pineapple upside down cake instead of pumpkin pie. Heck, throw it all out the window and just go out to eat. It'd save everyone a lot of work and pump money into the local economy besides.

But then where would we be in 50 years when I'm gone and my kids are taking over? Who would know what to do? My mom and dad taught us well, and my sisters and I knew just how to make it our traditional Thanksgiving. Jennifer baked the turkey and made Mom's sausage stuffing. Colleen made the cranberries, sweet potato casserole, and green beans. I made Mom's corn pudding and mashed potatoes. We had Mom's apple pie, pumpkin pie, and chocolate pie for dessert. Same menu as always for as long as I can remember. It brought us comfort and continuity and made Mom and Dad seem almost here.

Jennifer and her kids came down and spent the night. When she and I were cooking yesterday, my girls would ask, "Is this Grandma's recipe?" whenever I was getting a dish together. "Yes," I'd say. "We have this every Thanksgiving." I want them to know that we are the keepers of our traditions, and someday, it will fall to them, as the women of the family, to carry on. I want them to be as well-prepared as I was. I want their children to eat sweet potato casserole and sausage stuffing and corn pudding and ask, "Was this Grandma's recipe?" and they will respond, "No, it was your great-grandma's!" And someday, when Kirk and I are no longer on this earth, I want my kids to take comfort in the fact that they know what to do. Even though they will miss us like crazy, they can still feel us with them in the food on the table and the traditions surrounding it.

I miss you, Mom and Dad!