Change

We changed the clocks, changed the clothes in the closets, and watched as the leaves changed colors. And while I haven’t noticed, my family points out I've changed too. Where only a few short months ago, I’d rarely, if ever, challenge my mother, I now openly acknowledge our differences of opinion. I've gained more confidence in my beliefs and my body image, and have become more decisive—in more ways than just placing a Starbucks order!

And at the same time, so much remains constant. Thanksgiving is still a time of running the YMCA Turkey Trot (bright ‘n early Thanksgiving morning), and throwing self-discipline to the wind when the feast is unveiled. Even the comic moments of panic in my mother’s kitchen characterized by frenzied opening of windows, leaving everybody frozen and smelling of burnt caramel, are reliable.

Old friends have changed too—the time we spend together a mad rush to learn about new hobbies, new boyfriends, and new food affinities. Yet the friendship itself remains the unscathed by our time apart. My body instinctively sighs, relaxing at the sight of my old friends—the sound the soul makes as it falls back on established relationships, where there is history and ease with each other.

As the slightly burnt substance emerges from the oven and is distributed among the daring, we summon customary praise and suppress gag-reflexes. While the particulars of the experience have changed (pumpkin pies made of organic milk alternatives), the laughing remains untouched. Seconds anyone?