That’s what how my grandmother would greet us at the door to her trailer home. Delicious smells of turkey, stuffing, cranberry sauce—and the occasional Puerto Rican side dish making a discreet appearance, much to my delight—would flood her tiny dining room. She spoke with an accent thinker than the first slice of turkey, but we all understood what she said…and when we didn’t, she would reprimand us in Spanish. That was grandma. If she didn’t make sense, it was your fault. She’d then press her thin lips to our cheeks and usher us to the dinner table.
Every Thanksgiving spent without her has been particularly hard for me. Even with the 60+ years age difference, I considered her a best friend…someone I’d get my hair done with, someone I’d get pedicures with. However, I find solace knowing a part of her is still here…with me, with us. The turkey recipe is hers, as is the tradition of going around the dinner table saying what we’re thankful for.
For the past several years, my I’m-most-thankful-for has been the same: Being married to a little sliver of Jesus Christ himself (i.e. my husband), my mother’s burgeoning health, and my amazing family and friends. For without whom, I am nothing.
From the bottom of my heart, I want to wish you a very Hahpee Thainsgibbing…and if your grandmother is still around, give her an extra hug for me! 😉
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