When I think of Thanksgiving, I am mostly reminded of the days of yore — the smell of a phenomenal dinner 24 hours in the making, sitting around my childhood home with my four siblings waiting for the food to hit the table, fighting over who was going to get the turkey legs, turkey-induced food comas, temporary peace treaties (four siblings = lots of sibling rivalry), and the like.

At this point in my life — being on my own in New York City — I am reminded of how much I love and miss my family. I'm reminded of how wonderful they are, and how lucky I am to have them — no matter how much we may piss each other off from time to time.

I am also reminded of the six years I spent in the US Army — this holiday in particular always hit me the hardest. Thanksgiving is the only holiday my family really celebrates. Christmas was no big deal as I was not raised Christian. Most of the family was able to get together during this time, and I was always left to my own devices — usually in some less-than-desirable portion of the country.

My heart goes out to all those who continue to serve, and I hope that one day soon they will all be able to return to their loved ones.

Call your families. Tell them how much you love them and how grateful you are that they are there — I know I will.