It sure has been busy around here—the good kind of busy. Pies, turkey, all the fixings, and the comforting chaos that comes with getting ready for the holidays.
This year I even broke my own rule and decorated before Thanksgiving. I usually wait, but honestly? We could all use a little extra cheer. So the tree went up early. Candles lit. Strings of lights everywhere.
And in the middle of all that decorating, my son walked in, stopped to look at the tree, and said, “You moved it this year… and it’s a week early!”
He wasn’t complaining—just noticing. But something about that moment, his surprise mixed with familiarity, made me smile. Even small shifts in tradition remind me how much our home has grown and changed, and how grateful I am for the life built inside these walls.
And somehow, that tiny moment made everything feel a little brighter.
Because home wasn’t always certain.
I wasn’t born in the United States. I came here at sixteen, a refugee from a country that no longer exists. A war pushed me out, but America gave me a second chance. A safer life. A new language. Opportunity. And people—wonderful people I never would have met had I not been forced to start over.
This is why Thanksgiving is, without question, my favorite holiday—precisely because it’s not religious. It doesn’t divide. It doesn’t ask where you came from. It simply opens a door and invites everyone in.
So this week, as the pies cool on the counter and the turkey finally comes out of the oven, I celebrate not just tradition… but the life I was able to build here. The memories I’ve made. The family that grew around me. And the simple gift of being able to breathe, grow, and dream in peace.
What is your favorite holiday?
For me, Thanksgiving is pure perfection. Yet somehow it gets squeezed between the frenzy of Halloween and the glitter of Christmas—as if it’s not grand enough to stand on its own.
But it is.
So this week, let’s pause.
Let’s honor the table that welcomes everyone.
Let’s celebrate the quiet courage of starting over.
And let’s give thanks—not just for what we have, but for what we survived to reach this moment.
Happy Thanksgiving!
With all my love,
Sanela
Author Sanela Ramic Jurich