One of the things I love about Thanksgiving is its sense of community.
Thanksgiving is about being with family, in whatever way family manifests itself in your life. ‘Family’ for me most Thanksgiving’s means my flesh and blood relatives. Hoards of little cousins and loving, inquisitive aunts and uncles. The year I studied abroad in Florence, family meant my 70 or so other classmates who trekked to Bosnia-Herzgovinia. (That was also the first Thanksgiving I spent at a bar).
Family for me this year meant the 15 or 16 other Peace Corps Volunteers who celebrated the day at the home of two volunteers near Casablanca. There were games, dranks, good conversations, a mock dance party, enough places for everyone to sleep, and food. Lots of food.
Garlic mashed potatoes. Deep fried turkey. Green bean casserole. Biscuits. Funfetti Cake. Apple Cake. Noodles. Cheese. Heart shaped pumpkin muffins made by yours truly. And more.
Like a broken record, I’ll say it again: I am so grateful.
3 cheers for a wonderful Thanksgiving and 8+ months in Morocco.