Happy Thanksgiving
By Micaela Bahn
Our table kept growing longer and longer, its surface laden with an ever-growing number of platters that new little birds came pecking at. My grandparents always joked that to accommodate a table long enough for the holidays, they would have to build an extension onto their dining room. This, as it turns out, is exactly what happened. I have spent every Thanksgiving squeezed around a 25-foot table, bumping elbows with two dozen family members. It is a dream-like banquet of childish revelry, awkward personal questions, wine, and gratitude for family — both biological and chosen. The table sits quiet this November, but the wood remains, rubbed warm and smooth, and I am indebted to that memory. There is always next year.