I've never considered Thanksgiving to be a big holiday for me because traditionally my family volunteers all day. And I mean all day. Our big feast is on a random day the weekend following the big day. This means watching football and eating chips and dip while Dad hangs in the kitchen for a few hours.

I never considered Thanksgiving to be my favorite holiday, because I didn't have a big family to celebrate it with, so instead spent it slicing thousands of slices of pumpkin pie in a storage closet hour after hour. It felt like more of a coincidence and less of a tradition to go to my friend's house afterward and drink white wine with ice and Sprite and watch National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation and walk around the neighborhood at 10PM to watch the Christmas lights illuminate house by house. 

I didn't think these were traditions or that I would crave them when I moved away. I didn't realize Thanksgiving would be one of the hardest days for me to be away from home. 

I'm very grateful to have new traditions to make out here, chock full of new experiences and cultures and people and food. Still, I find myself trying to find places and things to fill the void of what I left behind.