For nearly two decades, Friendsgiving was my holiday. Some years it was an elegant dinner party, others it was an all-out rager—but no matter the form, it was always a celebration of food, friendship, and good times. I’d spend days (weeks) planning, cooking, and setting up the gratitude tree. And every year, without fail, my friends looked forward to one thing most: my Thanksgiving Pizza.
A flatbread layered with cranberry sauce, shredded turkey, stuffing, melted cheese, and a drizzle of gravy—the ultimate bite of Thanksgiving comfort. It started as a leftover experiment and became a tradition that outlasted many others.
This year, one year after my husband left to start a new life, I find myself reflecting on those memories with a complicated mix of joy and ache. I miss those days. The laughter, the fullness—both of heart and table. I am trying to make peace with the memories, but it’s harder than most can imagine. Sometimes I scroll through old photos and feel the warmth of those moments rise up—then just as quickly, a wave of sadness follows. My mind whispers, If it ended, did it even matter?
But deep down, I know it did. The joy was real. The laughter, the toasts, the music echoing through the kitchen—it all mattered. Even if that chapter closed, it was once full of love. I’m still learning to hold both truths at once: that something can be beautiful and still end; that gratitude and grief can share the same table.
So, as I move through this holiday season, I’m grateful for both the old and the new—the people who once filled my home, and the ones who will someday gather around my table again. One day, I’ll host another Friendsgiving, with new faces and fresh traditions. And when I do, I’ll proudly make that Thanksgiving Pizza again—because some traditions are worth keeping.
Stay in the Loop.
Real food. Real stories. Sent with love—right to your inbox.
Until then, I wish you a holiday filled with love, laughter, and the kind of feast and merriment that makes memories worth savoring.
