I miss waking up to a house smelling like turkey, the anticipation of everyone arriving, the ninja training on how to steal food, playing hot potato while peeling the potatoes, board games with the siblings, painting my brothers nails while they were passed out. Being dared to drink dad’s famous gravy, hearing arguments on who’s going to carve the turkey, making different concoctions of food, hearing the story of when Rick ate green gumbo, making gumbo, uncle George forcing me to eat peas by closing my eyes and convincing me it was green beans, gumbo, eating gumbo for days even weeks after. I miss the memories, I miss the people.
From Thanksgiving I found my love for cooking. I was always that annoying little sister who had way too much energy, always dancing around, and asking way too many questions. But as time went on the energy went down, dancing continued, and the questions kept on coming. Even today I find myself going through what my dad would tell me about how to use a knife properly, or how to make a bouquet (for gravy that is!), and every year repeating how to make a roux.
But we can’t go back in time, we must grow up at some point. These memories will always be with me. And growing up means making your own traditions, with a little bit of spice formed from your memories. This may involve a few tears of longing while creating, but thats the process. Thanksgiving was one of my favorite memories growing up, everyone under one roof. How can I make a new tradition with being over 1,200 miles away from home, having 2 parents, 1 amazing great aunt, 4 brothers, 3 sister-in-laws, 4 nephews, 2 nieces, and 3 dogs not by my side... time will only tell.
We need to work on creating new traditions 😀