People always ask what your favorite holiday is. Most people answer with Christmas. And I mean why not? Presents, snow, holiday cheer, and family! It really is the most wonderful time of the year. Except, for me, it’s not. For me, the most wonderful time of the year is Thanksgiving.

I remember as a kid, I was the most impatient person in the world. Nothing ever happened fast enough. And Thanksgiving was the most tedious, annoying and grating time of the entire year. Even worse than Christmas! Why? Because in the days leading up to Thanksgiving, Mom would make me and my siblings clean the house until it was absolutely spotless. I pretty sure everyone would roll their eyes when she announced it. I mean, it’s not like we were having special guests. Just my uncle and maybe my brother’s roommate Lance. Who on earth were we trying to impress? To be honest, I never did figure it out. Even now, at 19 years old, I still don't really get it.

But after all the scrubbing, washing, and sweeping was over, I would go sit on the floor of the living room, move away the curtains of the window, and wait. I could’ve sat there for hours if my mom hadn’t always called me away on miscellaneous tasks. I would quietly keep my eyes on the bridge that linked the highway to our road. It was the bridge that every single family member would have to cross in order to get to our home.

Visits from family was few and far in between. I only saw my uncle a few times a year, and he always was the most fascinating person. He brought gifts and took us shopping (practically an idol at ten years old). As I got a little older, he would bring up politics, and I would always make sure I knew what was happening in the world so I could partake in the conversation. He had the funniest most infectious laugh that I’d ever heard, and when we sat around the table to play cards after dinner, you couldn’t help but giggle when he let out a chuckle. When he’d leave Atlanta, he’d call my mom and give her a heads up. She’d announce it to the household, and, even though I knew it’d be at least three hours till he’d get here, I took up post by the window to wait for his SUV to come across the bridge.

My brother, despite being only 45 minutes away, was also a rare occurrence, but he never missed an Easter, Christmas, or Thanksgiving. But the gap between Easter and Thanksgiving was such a big gap, especially to a little girl, so I’d count the hours until he’d come home. He never told me ‘no’ when I asked to play video games, and for that sole reason he was my hero. He’s also one of those guys who has a knack for stand up comedy, and if he was around, I knew that my smile was never very far behind. Sometimes, his friend/roommate Lance would come with him, and they’d bring along Sampson, Lance’s bull mastiff. He was the most terrifying, yet fun and energetic dog I’ve ever met in my life. I’ll pray for you if you ever try to take away his tennis ball. He never called ahead to tell mom he was coming, so I had constant vigilance waiting for his truck to roll across the bridge. The second his tires hit the drive, I’d be out the door and down the steps to hug him.

As the years went by, my oldest sister moved out to go to college, so she was added to the waiting roster. I was ten or eleven when she went off the school, and it was weird to suddenly be in her abandoned room. (I also had to add that to the cleaning list along with the rest of the house). For a little while, my dad had to take a job eight hours away in Florida. His big, silver truck was included on my watchlist for those couple of years.

Thanksgiving was a time when my whole family was in the same place at the same time. No matter the weather, the time, the drama, or anything else, everyone always made an appearance for Thanksgiving. It was those days spent together that solidified my true love for family and tradition. Not Easter, Christmas, or the Fourth of July, but Thanksgiving. Curling up on the couch with my siblings, helping Mom cook in the kitchen, sitting outside in the cold with Dad waiting for the turkey to finish on the rotisserie, laying out on the couch reading a book while Uncle Alton caught up with Grandma. Those hours keeping a vigil at the window were always well worth it in the hours after.

So thank you, Thanksgiving. Thank you for bringing my family back home. Thank you for the hours of laughter around the table. Thank you for the memories created over brownies and playing cards. And most of all, thank you for simply being Thanksgiving.