What Thanksgiving means to me…

Traffic.
Being welcomed home with open arms.
Warmth of family.
Turkey with gravy.
The aroma of homemade pies.
Breda’s mashed potatoes.
Brussel sprouts.
The crackle of a fireplace and the smell of the burning embers.
Macy*s Thanksgiving Day parade.
Football on full volume.
Homemade Cappelletti soup.
Hand-holding and cuddling on the couch with a full belly.
Gloves and scarves.
The sound of a family laughing.
Pumpkin pie.
Saying grace at a full table.
Spending time with my brother.
Fuzzy sweaters and boots.
Butternut squash.
My Dad’s cologne.
Reminiscing about years past.
Apple pie with melted ice cream.
Hats and peacoats.
My Mom’s perfect Chocolate Mousse pies.
My cousins and I at the kids table.
Family photos.
Warm crab dip on toasted English muffins.
Harpoon winter warmer beer.
Catching up with old friends.
The hum of the townies at the corner store.
Scratch tickets.
Nostalgia.
My Grandmother’s cookies.
Eskimo kisses.
Complimenting the chef.
Snowflakes.
Carving the turkey.
Napping under warm blankets until dusk.
The smell of fresh brewed coffee.
The women of the family doing clean-up duty.
The hum of a dishwasher.
Gossip.
The men of the family on the couch watching the game.
The smell of cigar smoke and brandy.
Hot chocolate.
Playing card games.
Leftover turkey sandwiches at midnight.
Shopping!
Christmas decorations.
My husband and I sharing smiles.
Health and happiness.
Sharing your feelings of gratitude for loved ones.
Being thankful for right now and full life is.

*A special thank you to David for correcting my atrocious spelling of Cappelletti. Can you tell I am not 100% Italian?