I realize there’s been a shortage of Thanksgiving love poems, a problem I feel personally responsible to solve.
Such a delightful day to celebrate,
The final Thursday of November.
Close to family with a full plate,
Such a joy to look back and remember.
A time to count your blessings,
And to be overcome by thankfulness,
Because it’s not about turkey and dressing,
But realizing how greatly we’re blessed.
Ah, Thanksgiving love poems, a specialty I wish I could claim. Unfortunately, my skill as a poet is less than refined. The point is this- Thanksgiving Day is tomorrow, and I am beyond excited.
My Thanksgiving memories involve football games, delicious food, and learning how to cook. Of course, my responsibilities have increased over the years that I’ve been improving that skill. I remember a time when my mom would let me make the desserts, then I was promoted to baking the rolls, and finally, I was allowed to cook a vegetable casserole or two. Who knows what this year will hold, after all, I’m 23 now. Perhaps I’ll be trusted with a more necessary part of the feast.
I recently had a conversation with a dear friend whose religion advises her not to celebrate holidays, Thanksgiving included. I don’t impose my opinions on her. I love her regardless of the holidays she chooses to celebrate. But as she and I hashed out the good and the bad related to the holiday, we came to this conclusion: there is nothing wrong with eating Turkey on a Thursday with your closest friends and family or choosing a day to act in deliberate thankfulness.
Yes, gratitude should be a part of every day. If there’s one thing that my new husband and I have realized, it’s that there are no guarantees. Each of our blessings should be counted and counted often. Sure, we pay for our coffee with coins we’ve collected over the past week, but we’re thankful. Thankful for our health, our home, each other.