The French don’t really understand Thanksgiving. Nor do the Welsh or the English. And I’ll bet most of the world, but that’s all I’ve got to go off of. I mean, they get that it’s a time where you eat food and be thankful, but they don’t get it. Somehow this holiday is intrinsically American and as shocked by it as I am, I’m proud America. Because I think this holiday is our best out of all of them.
Thanksgiving for me has always meant two things: massive amounts of some of the best food of the year and time spent with my whole family. And by whole I mean both sides of my family cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents and the occasional boyfriend/girlfriend included. I come from a family where the time we spend on Thanksgiving is really about each other. Where we take a second to breathe and be together and think about just how lucky we are that we can do that.
I cannot express to you, or to anyone, how blessed I feel to have that. To have a family I know loves me. To have cousins who are my best friends too. Where even if you screw up, we say “we know. It’s okay. Will you let me help?”
And friends. I could sit here and name each one of them, but it would be too long. But you people who have helped me in ways you’ll never know. I’m thankful for that too.
I’m thankful for everyone I know. Because each in their own way has made me who I am, helped me through the hard (and the easy) times and given me the most beautiful experiences here. And I’m only 21 years old now. This wonderful adventure has hardly begun.
And I’m thankful for all of it.