The beginning of November inevitably brings thoughts of the holidays.  It's hard to avoid the onslaught of mainstream marketing on television, radio stations, billboards, stores, and pretty much anywhere you look.  I am a sucker for nostalgia.  I absolutely love the holidays.  I have a freaky-good memory and can remember details from many childhood events, especially holidays.  But when I think back to holidays past, I wonder how I got to where I am now.  There have been gradual natural changes over the years to how I spend my holidays.  Change naturally happens as babies grow to teenagers, who go off to college, get married and have their own babies.  It happens when there’s a divorce or a death.  When someone moves further away.  Plans change as new in-laws have to be consulted and brought into the planning.  They change as a spouse tries to hold onto their own traditions and blend them with new ones.

When I was a kid holidays were magical.  They were a fabulous blur of family, presents, food, and cousin fun.  My mom’s side of the family gathered for Thanksgiving on the weekend beforehand because my uncle had a Christmas tree farm, and they needed to get ready for their busy post-Thanksgiving rush.  My grandparents had a farm (next door to our house) where holidays took place until they moved to their cabin in the mountains when I was about ten years old.  The cabin is an idyllic, peaceful retreat that remains in my family to this day.  It sits way back in the woods beside a bubbling creek and was a wonderful place to spend the holiday.  The air was always cool and crisp and clean.  The fireplace always made it cozy and warm inside, and the turkey had a smoky flavor from being roasted on top of a grate over the fire.

Thanksgiving day was always spent with my dad’s family on Cocoa Avenue in Hershey, Pennsylvania.  It couldn’t have been a more different celebration from my mom’s family.  My great grandparents were from Italy, so we had two courses for Thanksgiving Dinner.  We started with my Italian great-grandmother’s homemade cheese ravioli, spaghetti, and meatballs.    Then we would just scrape our plates (something that didn’t strike me as odd until I was much older) to make room for turkey and all the fixings. I have never tasted an equal to her ravioli. They were deliciously unique, but unfortunately, I never got her recipe. My cousins from Baltimore were always there, and after our private dinner at the kids’ table, we had a great time playing with the pool table in the basement or running around outside.  

Christmas Eve was always spent with my mom’s family, and Christmas Day was spent with my dad’s family.  On years when we celebrated Christmas Eve at the cabin, we would get in the car really early Christmas morning to make it back home to see what Santa brought us before heading to Hershey. I loved the crazy anticipation of that drive home, even though I probably slept through most of it.  

Then life moves on.  Things change.  My parents’ divorce drastically changed the dynamic of these holiday traditions, though I am blessed to spend some of each holiday with both of them.  Then the loss of my grandparents changed it again.  We blended families and my sister count grew by two.  Then happy things like the marriages of my sisters, myself and my cousins, and the arrival of all of our children added joy and fun to the holidays again.  Thanksgivings are now at my mom’s house and luckily I still see aunts, uncles and cousins on that side.   I don’t see any of my cousins at Christmas anymore, but we’ve gotten creative and plan family get-togethers for off-season times of the year.   

I am happy and grateful for family and friends and the opportunity to spend quality time together both during the holidays and not.  Our move to Virginia has made it necessary to spend extended time with family in Pennsylvania, and it has honestly made it easier to make sure we see our loved ones.  Our visits are tightly scheduled to make sure we see everyone we want to see.  We have a new tradition of traveling to the Poconos after Christmas to see all of the friends we made while living there.  My son gets to ski with his friends, and we ring in the New Year with those we love and miss dearly.

It's  funny how you don’t realize while you are enjoying holidays with your loved ones that it might be the last time.  I don’t remember the last holiday that my parents were together.  I don’t remember the last holiday with my maternal grandmother making a turkey on the fireplace at the cabin.  I don’t remember my last meal of my Italian great-grandmother’s ravioli.  Time passes and old traditions evolve into new ones.  What remains though, is the same feelings of comfort and love.  What remains is the knowledge that things change and that we should savor and be grateful for every moment.