“Thanksgiving dinners take eighteen hours to prepare. They are consumed in twelve minutes. Half-times take twelve minutes. This is not coincidence.”

Erma Bombeck

Incredibly, the kids haven’t been home since January! This past summer, they drove the 6 hours to our cabin three times, but here at home? It’s been a while. Consequently, this was the first time my daughter saw that her bedroom was now my office. She hasn’t lived with us for four years, so I felt the transition was ok. She stood at the door in what I can only assume was bewilderment and shouted down the hallway at me, “WOW–it doesn’t even look like my room anymore.”

See, here’s the deal–are we supposed to keep their rooms like a museum? A child’s forever spot? I feel kind-of bad about this. Almost like their childhood bedrooms are the one space they have that is constant…safe. And now all of her memories are boxed up and painted over. But this is all part of the separation and more importantly, growing up. She’s 22 now; almost 23. When I was her age, I was married and had a baby–her. She honestly didn’t seem to mind until I told her that I was thinking of turning Henry’s room into a crafting space. She was enthusiastic about THAT idea leaving me to think maybe she is a bit hurt about not having her own space any longer. This may even that sibling playing scale…

You know what’s awesome, though? The time we spent together. We played games every night and we watched movies. We made candles, and we made sweatshirts. We ate, we laughed until we cried. We screamed WAY too many effinheimers during the family games, and drank WAY too many Bud Light Holiday Seltzers. Umm–have you had the Apple Crisp? AMAZING.

This is exactly what Thanksgiving is for–family. Laughing. LOTS of hugs and kisses. I can’t put into words the actual feelings in my heart, only to say that it is full.