Thanksgiving is here! It is such a simple, unflashy holiday.

A quick description is, “Let’s get together for a meal and be thankful we have each other.”

A more accurate description could be…

“Let’s get together with family and friends we don’t see that often, stuff ourselves with food so we can barely move, argue about religion and politics, excitedly share our latest Netflix binge-watching craze, watch football games, and go home thankful we only do this once a year.”

One of my earliest memories of Thanksgiving dinner was running around with my cousins as my grandma fixed Thanksgiving dinner. We would snitch black olives from the dinner table and put them on every one of our fingers. Standing there with fingers extended, we would casually gobble up each olive until all fingers were olive free.

Then, it was time to return to the table to fill up on more olives. Each time we were chased away by an adult. But we always got our olives.

It was loud. Everyone was talking and arguing and laughing. I don’t remember if the TV was on or not. If it was, we kids weren’t paying attention.

We didn’t go around and talk about how thankful we were for each other, the food, the house, etc. Nope, we just enjoyed great food and spending time with each other. It was nice, and in hindsight, I’m certainly thankful for the memories.

When we stopped having extended family Thanksgiving, I learned to make my own.

The first turkey I ever cooked was huge! Well over 22 lbs. I named him Higgins. Why? Because naming a turkey seemed silly and inappropriate, which is all part of the fun. Why Higgins? He was big and seemed a bit posh, like a British butler. He appeared to be a bit full of himself. Literally, I found the giblets and the neck stuffed inside him in a way that I learned later is completely normal for a frozen turkey.

The first turkey I ever cooked was huge! Well over 22 lbs. I named him Higgins. Why? Because naming a turkey seemed silly and inappropriate, which is all part of the fun. Why Higgins? He was big and seemed a bit posh, like a British butler. He appeared to be a bit full of himself. Literally, I found the giblets and the neck stuffed inside him in a way that I learned later is completely normal for a frozen turkey.

I got so good at making Thanksgiving dinner that I made it for my co-op in college with two turkeys and more mashed potatoes and gravy than I’d ever seen. It filled everyone up, all 30 residents. I was so thankful for the three gas ovens and the industrial dishwasher.

I love that Thanksgiving is special. We certainly don’t do it every day.

While I haven’t cooked a Thanksgiving meal for a while (or named any turkeys lately), family dinners are a bit harder to organize these days, and black olives no longer fit on my fingers without splitting up the sides, I realize that the tradition of being thankful is still something I can certainly celebrate.

I’m thankful for Thanksgiving—past, present, and future.