In November 2018, we celebrated Thanksgiving deep in the bush, surrounded by 12 friends from all over the world, only a handful of whom were Americans. Somehow, that made the holiday feel even more special, our own little pocket of tradition in the middle of wild, unfamiliar terrain. The heat was relentless that day, the kind that settles on your skin and refuses to budge. Making pie crusts in that swelter became the baking challenge of my life, as evidenced in the photo above. Yet, despite the melting butter and my fraying patience, the pies and the memories were worth every sticky moment.
Today, on the day before Thanksgiving in the US, I can’t help but drift back to those earlier chapters of our lives, long before we ever imagined living out of suitcases and watching the world unfold from country to country. It’s funny how certain holidays have a way of tugging at old memories, not in a sad way, but with a kind of soft nostalgia that wraps itself around the edges of the day. Thanksgiving was always one of those holidays for me, a whirlwind of preparation, a labor of love, and a marker of the life we once lived.
The night before Thanksgiving used to be one of the busiest, warmest nights of the year in our household. Armed with my treasured collection of 9-inch glass pie pans, accumulated over decades, each with its own history of returning faithfully to my cupboard, I’d dive into what felt like a pie-making marathon. I made pumpkin pies “to go,” one for every family who would be joining us at the table, plus extra pies for the feast itself and, of course, a few reserved specifically for Tom, who always enjoyed a slice or two the following days. It wasn’t unusual for me to bake as many as ten pies in a single day.
Each year, I offered my gentle reminder that I needed those glass pie pans back, and every time, our family and friends complied without hesitation. They knew how special those pans were to me, not because of their monetary value but because of the memories baked into them, year after year of holidays, laughter, and shared meals.
I had my special pumpkin pie recipe, one I never strayed from. There was comfort in that routine, the familiar spices, the deep orange filling, the scent that drifted from the oven and wrapped itself around the whole house like a warm blanket. And then there was the crust. I always used Martha Stewart’s pie crust recipe, rolling each one by hand, determined never to yield to the convenience of those store-bought versions. They simply couldn’t compare, the texture, the flavor, the flaky richness of a homemade crust just couldn’t be replicated.
As our grown kids paired off and welcomed families of their own, the Thanksgiving ritual expanded right along with them. It wasn’t just pies they took home anymore. I lovingly wrapped leftovers “to go” for each family, little packages of the day’s joy, meant to be savored one more time in the comfort of their own homes. To make this possible, I often prepared two turkeys weighing over 20 pounds each. I would wake early in the morning, sometimes before the sun peeked through the windows, and begin the long dance of roasting and basting, timing everything just right so the meal flowed seamlessly onto the table.
Those were hectic days, yes, but they were also deeply fulfilling. The house buzzed with conversation, chairs scraping across the floor, children laughing, adults catching up, and the comforting clatter of serving spoons dipping into steaming bowls. It was work, but it was joyful work, a celebration of family, abundance, and togetherness.
And now, here we are, worlds away from those bustling kitchens and heavy grocery bags, spending Thanksgiving Eve somewhere across the globe. Our lives look so different these days; no pie pans to collect, no turkeys to prep, no countertops overflowing with ingredients. Sometimes I miss those moments, but more often, I carry them with gratitude. They are part of the mosaic of our lives, one that still warms my heart even as we celebrate holidays in new and unexpected ways.
Travel has changed our rituals, but it hasn’t changed the essence of Thanksgiving for me: remembering, appreciating, and savoring the sweetness of all we’ve been blessed to experience, then and now.
To all our family and friends around the world who celebrate this special day, we offer each of you a heartfelt Happy Thanksgiving.
Be well.
Photo from ten years ago today, November 26, 2015:
