Holidays just aren't what they used to be for me. I realize I'm not a little kid, so perhaps it's the wonder of it all that I'm missing. Actually, no. It's my gran I'm missing.

Thanksgiving would begin my gran's favorite season of the year. Nothing was done in a small way for the holidays. Family (and mine is enormous) would gather for a boisterous dinner on Thanksgiving. Then the weeks of baking and hording Christmas candy, cookies and treats would begin. My gran always hid the candy in the same place and every year "wondered" what happened when she'd go back to the tins to find them half empty. My five cousins, my uncle and I would hang our heads and mumble, "No idea, Granny!" while trying desperately to get the peanut butter smell off our collective breath from the buckeyes.

My gran would spend hours at the kitchen table kneading cookie and bread dough, with me as a captive audience. Her fleshy arms would work the dough while she regaled me with stories of her childhood, her life with my grandfather and my dad. My gran always included me in the operation. I ground nuts, sifted flour, rolled dough and watched earnestly as she melted chocolate in a dented double broiler. She would let me decorate the sugar cookies fresh from the oven, her gentle hand guiding me. She also let me taste test the buckeyes, which she knew were my favorite, as soon as they were done. Those days in the kitchen with my gran were the best of my life. I learned how to bake, my family's history, and more about love from her than anyone else.

Since my gran died nearly four years ago, holidays just haven't been the same. In fact, I've not been to a family Thanksgiving in the past three years or so. My family seems to have forgotten the traditions and how special the season was to my gran. They hardly mention her at all, and I just can't stand to see Thanksgiving void of her. I normally visit her grave on Thanksgiving and spend the day alone.

However, this year, I actually had someplace to spend Thanksgiving. The boyfriend's family invited me to spend the holiday with them in Harrodsburg. While I was hesitant to do so because of the implications inherent in spending a major holiday with a boyfriend's family, I accepted because I adore his sister and brother-in-law and father and mother. I've met them before and they're wonderful people.

I had such a fantastic time! His nephews were waiting outside for us, launching themselves at us even before the car had reached a full stop. They were visiting for the holiday from Atlanta and for a first meeting, I got along famously with them. I spent hours playing Jenga™, checkers (though the five year old has creative rules for checkers), and putting a puzzle together. The boyfriend's dad met us at the garage, ignoring the boyfriend and enveloping me in a bear hug. As we entered the house, I received hugs from his mom, his sister and brother-in-law, and his sister- in-law. His brother was a bit stand-offish, but I chalked that up to the boyfriend telling him that I'm a rabid liberal. I immediately was commandeered into the living room for the beginning of the hours of game playing with the kids. His sister-in-law came in and chatted with me, and I noticed how stunningly gorgeous she is. We talked about the struggles she has with her oldest son who is autistic and my job at the Bad Ass Boy's Home™. I really enjoyed the time spent talking with her and playing games with her children. Her youngest curled up in my lap to watch "It's A Wonderful Life" while we waited for dinner. The boyfriend's dad kept patting my back or my arm. His mom continually tried to feed me. I spoke French with his brother-in-law. I felt part of a family again, something I'd not felt since my gran died in 1996.

And it made me very thankful indeed.