Thanksgiving is one of the hardest holidays as an American-born expat. I’d say it is harder than the Fourth of July – it is getting close to winter and the daylight hours are waning, often pitch dark not long after school pickup.
It is that awkward time of year when the temperatures haven’t dipped low enough for Jack Frost to cast a shimmering spell over the rooftops, it is just cold and grey and gloomy.
Every year I make an effort to preserve the Thanksgiving tradition. When I was working fulltime, I would take the day off and spend it in the kitchen.