As I've been telling almost everyone I've talked to in the past few weeks, Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. I love everything about it - the delicious mountains of food, good times with the family, and the lack of hassle and expectations associated with gift giving. Usually the day is celebrated with the rest of my family at my mother's house. All year I long for that feeling of comfort and warmth of spending the day with the family.

This year was no exception to the yearly tradition. Along with all the usual patters, our family has some special traditions of our own. For example, as my brother aptly pointed out this year, something is always broken. My grandfather has made a personal tradition of crying after every large holiday meal after reflecting on his life and the few years left he has to live (or so he says). My mother and I usually fight about something insignificant and later are able to laugh about it over coffee and pie. And of course, my uncle without fail will find his way into a quiet corner of the house after dinner and promtly fall asleep, thereby avoiding all of the cleanup and dishwashing.

I love it all. Of cousre, sometimes my family drives me crazy, but that's what makes them mine. And for as long as I can remember it's always been that way. The years have passed and we've all aged but for the most part not much has changed. I wonder what it will be like in a few years with the addition or deletion of some of the seats at the table. I suppose I'm expected to be the first one to change much of that since I'm the oldest child, the first expected to bring someone home or start a family of my own and bring them into our personal traditions. And as scary as that is, I'm excited to see what the years will bring...it just seems so far from now.