thanksgiving senioritis

I would be lying if I said I wasn’t slightly dreading Thanksgiving this year. I wasn’t dreading it because of awkwardness with family, because I was excited to see everyone, nor was it about the food, because Uncle John is a pretty good cook, but rather, it was because I knew this would be the last time things would be the way they are. 

I have spent sixteen out of my seventeen Thanksgivings with my mom’s family on the East Coast (the exception is COVID). We celebrated at Uncle Donald’s house for most of my life, and then we switched to my grandparents’ house in New Jersey, where I got to cook the feast because I was sleeping just above the kitchen. Lastly, we moved to Uncle John’s house in New York City. Locations have changed, foods have adapted, and people have come and gone, but the one thing that stayed constant was my family, my grandparents, my aunt, my uncle, and my first cousins. Now, I would be feasting with them for what could be the last time for a long time, because next year, I’ll be somewhere else. The scary thing is I don’t know where that is. Everything is changing, and that includes the comfort holiday of Thanksgiving. 

So, I dreaded it, because I knew I would be sitting at the table with my fat plate of food thinking more about how I’ll never be a high schooler again at Thanksgiving than the actual deliciousness of the meal. 

Thanksgiving has always been a time for my family to put our stress, exhaustion, and maybe tension aside and come together to laugh. But most importantly, it’s been a holiday where we’ve seen each other grow up. When I was 5, I remember sitting near the life-sized stuffed tiger. At 11, I played on my iPad with my little cousin Noah. At 13, I refused to wear jeans or anything nice to Thanksgiving and instead showed up in leggings and a knitted sweater. At 16, I started to get asked the college questions. At 17, I was on the verge of independence and a future I couldn’t yet navigate.

There is an Instagram story between my Uncle John and Cousin Mike where I added snippets of the cooking process (with the occasional memeable dance break). I’d like to think that Instagram story was a foreshadow to Juji The Foodie. Just recently, I posted an Instagram Reel about my last Thanksgiving. It was like the bookend to this routine in my life. 

Yea, yea, I’m being super sappy and sentimental. You probably want to hear about food. But, while Thanksgiving is about food, it’s nothing without family and the clearest memories. I’ve chosen to focus more on what’s important, the stories, rather than the food that left me full and tired. 

This year, I put on my best Thanksgiving outfit: a skirt, tights, and a sweater. I’ve come really far from my 13-year-old leggings phase! I came to UJ’s (Uncle John’s) house early, and crafted a charcuterie board and helped Noah set up the appetizer bar. I sat at the counter picked at the best bread and butter pickles I’d ever had. 

When everyone else came, it was impossible to avoid the college conversations. As much as I wanted to be kind and accept the topic, all I wanted to do was live in the moment of Thanksgiving and think about what I have now: an awesome family, great food, and wonderful memories. Nothing about the future. Thanksgiving is about reflection, and so as I ate, I fell down the spiral of memories. One time I fell down the stairs in front of my huge family at Thanksgiving. Another time I forced everyone to listen to me play Hot Crossed Buns on the grand piano. I thought I was the coolest person ever. But everytime, I was with my people, so none of the embarrassing moments mattered. Instead, they made good stories that I get to tell now guilt-free.

I began to wonder how others will remember me. Hopefully as the awesome older cousin and the used-to-be-little chef-helper. I told UJ, “what if I surprised you and showed up for Thanksgiving next year.” He said something along the lines of, “it wouldn’t be a surprise then because you just told me, but we’d obviously have tons of food for you, and you are always welcome.” So, maybe I’ll stick with my non-secretive secret plan. Or, I’ll head home and face the FOMO of being a college student with younger families. My little (well, not so little anymore) cousins would still enjoy Thanksgiving as always. Everyone would be together, and I wouldn’t be with them. My idea of what Thanksgiving would be like was shifting. Who would I celebrate with? Where? How? What traditions would we make? What traditions would I be invading in? Everything is uncertain. That’s kind of the theme for this year. 

With all the uncertainty and dread, I ended up feeling really comfortable at Thanksgiving this year. I felt the warmth of sitting with those closest to me and doing the things we’d always done, like watching the Bears lose, naming the smoked and normal turkeys (Elfaba and Glinda), and eating mashed sweet potatoes. While I am super excited for the future, a lot has to change. Thanksgiving was a wakeup call to the change in traditions I’ll be facing.

So, maybe “dread” was the wrong word to express my feelings. I think it was more like a realization that I had to come to terms with. But, Thanksgiving was still Thanksgiving. It always will be, no matter the food I’m eating, where I am, and even who I’m with, because the memories from the past will come with me. East Coast Thanksgiving may not be the the standard anymore, so it’s time to create a new one. But, all those New York/New Jersey memories will remain bright and constant, and will always feel standard.