I really love Thanksgiving.
When you're a kid, it's all about Christmas. The whole season. Every moment is more magical than the last, and it all builds up to waking up to a bounty of gifts.
Actually, now that I'm a parent, it's all about Christmas again, because everything is magical in their eyes, and I'm the one who gets to make that happen. I know it's cool to say that making the magic sucks, and it's exhausting, but truly, I really love it. I love eavesdropping just enough to get that special gift, and I love filling the stockings and wrapping every last chapstick, and I actually love seeing how much they light up watching the elf move.
(If our elf were overly ambitious, requiring thought and planning and posing and scene creation, I might think otherwise. Ours is fairly lazy, and I'm cool with that. I can handle the shelf to shelf movement.)
But our Christmas prep doesn't start until December 1 (again, 25 days of merry is doable, any more and I might join the revolution), so today, I'm still thinking Thanksgiving.
I really do love Thanksgiving.
It's obviously false to say that Thanksgiving has none of the stress of Christmas, but in some ways, it does. It's not a month of merry. It's a day that's all about warmth, and family, and FOOD. Yes, for the hostess, it's not exactly a walk in the park, but at least it begins and ends with the meal. It's not a meal PLUS.
And really, as I've gotten older, I love the community aspect of the meal even more. It's not one person, shouldering the entire burden. It's a family, coming together, sharing, bringing the pieces until the meal takes shape.
There's something just wonderful about that.
