We had so much fun again, didn’t we?
I’m writing to make sure you know how much I appreciated every minute of it. Well, them. Since I celebrated you three times.
But, really, I celebrated you even more than that. Because every minute I spent preparing for you is a minute I spent celebrating.
You are my favorite day of the year, and when I put together a dish that will end up on your table, I don’t do it without immense thought and care.
It’s not just the day, it’s the whole process; the getting ready, the repetition of steps in the kitchen I undertake year, after year, after year.
Only to be topped by the meal itself. Because it’s about more than eating, it’s about connecting.
It restores my soul.
Thanksgiving, I hope that doesn’t sound too dramatic, because I mean it. You are the day I wait for during all others. I get you.
l like to think you get me too–that the feeling is mutual.
Until next year, Thanksgiving.
I remain, forever yours,
Recipes include this turkey, real green bean casserole, Grandma Glass of Milk’s mashed potatoes, my husband’s cranberry sauce (to which he now only adds a scant cup of sugar), various and sundry smoothies I drank in a vain attempt to detox, and a slew of others, forthcoming.