The grandkids would run eagerly in all directions, squealing and playing some sort of game. One of our favorites was "Cowboys and Indians".
Grandma would gather us close in hugs and kisses, and an Aunt or Uncle may occasionally chase us down for their share.
The adults would gather in the kitchen, bumping into one another as they prepared our family "Thanksgiving Dinner".
The family recipe of stuffing.
Best Brown Bread.
Grandma's Prune Roll.
Just to name a few of the traditional foods we prepare.
I remember snitching away Bouillon cubes to lick, as we sat on the stairs and watched the activity below.
Buttermilk is Grandpa's favorite and I'll never forget trying that sour stuff. *wrinkled nose*
Nope, still not for me. But I'll always cherish the memory of his mustache turning white as he'd smack his lips, rub his stomach, and state how delicious it was.
The burners were placed conveniently in the center of an open counter, making it easy to "taste" the gravy as you went along.
When the meal was ready, we'd all be ushered to our make-shift tables around the house, and told to be seated and "please try to be quiet".
Grandpa would say grace, then the food would be dished up. We'd drink our cider eagerly, and place our olives on our fingers, pretending we were something else, besides ourselves.
Thanksgiving memories. Childhood days. Something I will cherish for the rest of my life.
As we grow older, it seems our family grows smaller.
Grandma is no longer there to welcome us with her laughing eyes and smiling lips. But the memory will always be stamped on my heart.
I thank God for my days as a young girl, and I pray someday I may have children to pass down traditions, and to share my love of family gatherings and precious times together.
All too soon, those days will be gone. Like the wind that blows the leaves across the land.
Have a blessed Thanksgiving everyone!