It's our first Thanksgiving in our new home. We are used to new, thankful for home, and we definitely have snow. This year I am the grandmother looking out over the drifted snow to see if a little boy will be able to make his way to Thanksgiving.  We check the weather updates constantly, hoping the roads clear.  Next year, two little girls will join us all and I almost need to pinch myself, that is such a blessing.

As we spent this stormy day at home rushing to finish projects and make things just right before everyone comes together here I remembered a very blustery holiday in Wisconsin as a child.  The wind was blowing and snow falling so heavily my mother made the call that we just could not make it to my grandparents' farm for the family celebration.  I recall that disappointment vividly to this day.  

I tried to think of all the individual components of those days.  Modest best describes everything about my grandmother and her home.  The house was small, without any striking architectural features.  The food was always quite good, though Gram was not an adventurous cook and relied on box mixes which would be met with scorn, no doubt, by many today.  The menu was the same every year and served on Johnson Brothers Friendly Village dinnerware set on a white lace tablecloth with a practical vinyl cover underneath.  We were not a perfect family, but there were perfect days and perfect places.  Thanksgiving, and her home, were that. 

I'm a different grandmother in so many ways, tending more to the elaborate and over the top. (I'm a little 'extra' y'all lol) Decor gets far more of my brain cells than the cooking does, and that is often apparent – for better and for worse.  Food sensitivities demand everything is all natural, which also means nothing is very convenient.  The actual home we celebrate in has changed many, many times.  My reach exceeds my grasp in many areas as a result of all this.  I can't quite seem to settle when it comes to my children and their children.  I want to give them that same joy. 

What will my grandchildren's impressions be? They won't be the same as mine.  The world is different.  We are different.  I like to think tiny hearts always carry a little 'hurrah' for grandmother's house though and feel so very fortunate to now be on this side of the gramma equation, looking at the holidays from the other direction. It is my biggest wish that this little man and all the grandchildren we are blessed with feel something of the same magic that I felt when my grandparents' home came into view. Wherever that house may be, whatever may be on the table, may it all amount to "first rate play."