Another Thanksgiving Day has come and gone. Over the years, Thanksgiving has become my favorite holiday of the year. It's built around a delicious meal, the weather is (usually) decent for traveling, and there's just the right hint of Christmas anticipation without any of the Christmas stress. Then, of course, there's the actual purpose of the day; a purpose I'm 100% on board with. This wasn't always the case. As a child, Thanksgiving was definitely a second-tier holiday, well behind the "People Give Me Stuff" top-tier holidays like Christmas, Halloween, Easter and my birthday, and only ahead of the "Boring, But At Least I Don't Have to Dress Up" holidays like Labor Day because of the parades. Thanksgiving was usually at our house. Grandparents and aunts and uncles would arrive, and I'd hang up their coats, supply soft drinks, or, when I was old enough, tend the fire in the fireplace. I was banned from the kitchen, and that suited me just fine. Dinner was always delicious (my parents really do have a magic way with a turkey) and then the day hit its first rough spot - the seemingly endless interval between dinner and dessert, when the parades were over and nobody wanted to play games because they were all engaged in that most hideous of adult pastimes, talking. Finally, coffee was brewed and mom would whip up the cream for the pies. The day was back on track. Now that I'm an adult, that gap between dinner and dessert is almost nonexistant (nowadays we're barely done with dessert before someone says "you know, I could go for a turkey sandwich" and we all nod our heads ecstatically) and filled with jokes and stories and memories and laughter. I guess talking isn't so bad.

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