Now that I have moved out from my parents house, Thanksgiving just isn’t the same. I don’t get to go home every year either. That’s the worst part of growing up I think.
I remember how amazing the house smelled the day before and the day of Thanksgiving. Mom would start making potato salad or macaroni, deviled eggs and all of those cakes and pies the day before Thanksgiving. Then on Thanksgiving day, she would get up way before any of us even thought of getting up to start the turkey and ham.
By the time we all woke up, she had it all in the oven and we would wake up starving because the house smelled so good. We usually ate around 2 and the table to overflowing with food. Green beans, corn, yeast rolls, and some years, we had roast duck instead of turkey. Oh how I miss those days!!! I can still smell my mothers cooking when I think about Thanksgiving.