Good bye, Thanksgiving. Hello Christmas!

Such was the sentiment I wrote on my wipe-off plate the morning all our company left after the Thanksgiving holiday. I'm always exhausted the Monday after, and always sad to see our families drive away. The older we all get, the more I wish we lived closer to everyone. This year, however, I was especially pensive about the time we had just spent together.

So many different snapshots went through my mind of twenty of us living and/or floating in and out of this house for the past five days. Various shifts of help in the kitchen ranging from five to 85 years old made me smile... most of all, the robotic movements of all the cousins pitching in to clear tables and wash and dry dishes after the big Thanksigiving dinner! I couldn't have been more grateful. There was the traditional pool tournament downstairs, while boxing and bowling on the Wii upstairs was a new favorite this year. Old girl scout songs were spontaneously sung (with bouts of forgetfulness), for the pre-schoolers around the dining room table one night. Then there was a hilarious discussion in the upstairs sitting area by several generations about when and if you should ever be too old to enjoy sex. That's always a good food digestor!

When things got slow, we could always rev things back up by trying to get Simone to speak some new words or listening to tales told by kindergarteners... some true, some not. The cousins had a night out this year to themselves; no parents, no kids. My sister's family left early for good reason. The new baby born earlier in the week beckoned a new Grandma home to hold little Audrey Jane. We missed Sam and Carly, the parents, and others who stayed behind, but are thankful she arrived into this world healthy. At the same time, we celebrated my dad's 85th birthday, putting a new spin on the "something old, something new" phrase. Dad is just as fit as ever and looks better every year. Still, no one escapes the end of life, and we can't help wonder how many more Thanksgivings he and the "wiser" ones will be with us. For that reason, we presented Dad with all the military medals he earned during his service to our country as a U.S. Marine in World War II. What a special and memorable birthday it was!

We missed Doug's dad this year, but it was so good to have his mom come again, after several years of caring for her ailing husband. Reminding us again, however, that life begins and ends, two among the group this year are expecting new babies whose cries will hopefully be part of the backdrop next year.

One of the highlights for me was the Sunday brunch at the country club where the kids each made a gingerbread house to usher in the Christmas season. It turned the corner for me from fall to winter, from Thanksgiving to Christmas, as the snow gently fell outside the windows, as if on cue.

Not just another season was passing. Not merely another year. Rather something bigger, more cyclical. We're all getting older, and there are more children. My girls are not just becoming young women; they are young women. It was confirmed this morning when Lauren stopped by to copy some of our family's traditional recipes from the weekend spread. She wanted the recipe for Aunt Gloria's vegetable dip, who is sadly no longer here to make it herself. And she wanted my Mom's deviled egg recipe, which she got from my aunt. She grabbed a few others and I smiled as she drove away. I knew the sweet times and stories passed down through the generations, told around the family tables where those same foods were served would get a new twist and keep going.

No sooner had she left, did Shannah call for my holiday quiche recipe. She was making it for dinner tonight. And so the new twist begins.

I'm home alone tonight amidst the rubble left behind from another wildly successful family gathering. So grateful for a weekend set aside to actually be thankful together. So grateful for a family like ours. We may not be perfect. We may not always get along. There may be hard times and disappointments. But as we say good bye to Thanksgiving and hello to Christmas, I'm reminded of a saying in a silly children's book that was read too many times this weekend;

I don't care if you believe it,

it's the kind of [home] I live in,

and I hope I never leave it.