Giving Thanks

When it comes to holidays, I am a woman of tradition.  Whenever my family thinks about switching something up, like opening presents throughout the day on Christmas or not going to the Thanksgiving Day Parade because it is too cold, I am the one they have to fight for it.  So having a Thanksgiving that was not only untraditional but celebrated in a country that doesn't celebrate Thanksgiving was...interesting.
Before coming to France, I knew when the holidays came around it would be one of the hardest things to handle.  I didn't expect to be doing anything for Thanksgiving, but luckily I was wrong.  Our program coordinator put together a Thanksgiving dinner for all of the Americans, our teachers and our host families.  I even went and spoke with the chef myself, giving him exact directions on how Thanksgiving in America is done and translating recipes for him.  And I'm glad I did because it was fantastic.
Thanksgiving started off with my favorite thing in the world, Marketing class (sarcasm: it is the bane of my existence) which ended around 12.  We had 8 hours until our dinner and I knew that if I didn't keep myself busy I would let the sadness of being away from the people I am most thankful for in the world get to me.  So I went over to my friend's house and we made an American breakfast for lunch (eggs, bacon, the whole shabang) while listening to Christmas music.  After we watched episodes of Thanksgiving themed TV shows on Netflix.  It wasn't quite the same as Panera bagels and watching the parade as I usually do, but it was fun.
When it was time for the dinner, all the Americans anxiously awaited what this French chef would come up with.  And we were all shocked at how great of a job he had done.  As much as I'm sure he was tempted to add a French twist, he didn't.  It was all American.  Turkey, potatoes, pies, cranberries.  There was everything.  We also each gave a little toast, saying what we were thankful for.  One person did it and I think our French families sort of assumed it was an American tradition sooo we all sort of got guilted into it.  But I was happy to have the chance to tell them how much I treasure my relationship with them and how blessed I feel to have a second family here.
We got home around midnight and I was pretty proud of myself; I hadn't let a single tear out all day.  But right before I went to bed I saw a message from my dad saying he had to say grace since I wasn't there.  Ever since I was little I was the one to say grace on Thanksgiving.  I don't know why.  It is tradition and I love tradition.  I get that from my dad I think.  So that's when I lost it.  I was able to facetime my family and see them all wearing Kalamazoo College gear, making me feel like I was there even though I was on the other side of the world.  We talked and I started feeling better.  I left them to their dinner.
Thanksgiving was very bittersweet.  I was with my second family, but I wasn't with my family.  I was at home, but not my true home.  I had American food, but it wasn't American food.  The song is true: there is no place like home for the holidays.  But this is a holiday about giving thanks, and after the happiness I felt to be where I am as well as the sadness I felt because of it, I had a lot to be grateful for.  I'm a lucky girl.