It’s Thanksgiving here in the U.S., which means it’s time to stuff myself stupid and be thankful that I can stuff myself stupid. Unlike most Thanksgivings I’ve celebrated, I’m not traveling or seeing anyone outside of my immediate family today. This year, my wife and son and I are spending Thanksgiving at home.
Last weekend, my wife’s family and a few of our friends (with kids of their own) got together to celebrate our son’s fourth birthday a week and a half early. It was the only time everyone on her side of the family was available. Next weekend, my family is coming to celebrate our son’s fourth birthday a few days late, for the same reason. Not a bad arrangement for a four-year-old. But this, our “middle weekend,” happened to fall on the Thanksgiving holiday, so we decided to take it for ourselves instead of arranging a third gathering.
I don’t consider this spending the holiday “alone,” because 1) that sounds sad and 2) it makes it seem like we have nowhere to go. We received invitations from close friends to spend the holiday with their families, but we politely declined. We decided to host our own Thanksgiving dinner this year for no one but ourselves. No travel. No schedule. We may not even get out of our pajamas all day!
And to me, there’s something about hosting a big dinner in your house that makes it feel like a home. I tried it with my family last year for Christmas, and while it was not without its hiccups (I wasn’t happy with how my main course turned out, and our house barely fit even our small extended family) it really helped make our home feel complete. Even though we’re only “hosting” for ourselves, I still count it and I’m looking forward to recapturing that holiday feeling of home.
Happy Thanksgiving, if you celebrate it! And if you don’t, then I hope you treat yourself to a nice dinner tonight.