Thanksgiving Again


Once upon a time there was Thanksgiving. And on this day called Thanksgiving there was a tradition at the Gwinn-Harner-Keller-Conner-Moats-family Thanksgiving.

Meet at Grandma's. That is where you had to go for Thanksgiving.

So ingrained into their head this idea was that it was blasphamy to not go. It was like going against breathing.

And it ended all too soon. And Thanksgiving wasn't the joyus occasion that it once was. She was dead, her house was sold, her belongings moved to family members in sad remembrance.

Thanksgiving was moved to her son's house. The first year only two of his daughters and their families went. His sisters couldn't bear the thought of changing the tradition. They drove to the front of Grandma's old house and cried.

It was so ingrained.

But things got better, slowly, not fast enough, not long enough, but got better.

And they came the third time Thanksgiving came around. And we learned the true meaning of giving thanks on this day where it is tradition to do so. Because we missed her, and thanked her, and came to a new family tradition.

How long will this one last?

Author's Notes/Comments: 

I hate it, but this site takes away all my spaces. I swear I don't writealllikethis usually. My style of writing has a lot of spaces.

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