Have you ever clicked the needles in the Knitty header?

You might want to today.

I've lived in Canada since I was 6 [aka a long, long time]. Canadian Thanksgiving is in October when it's usually barely cool outside, with leaves on the trees and jackets optional. I've never gotten used to it.

My first 6 years imprinted Thanksgiving time into my brain as what it is now in November in the northeast: a real bite in the air and leaves on the ground. Winter is definitely coming. So I'm feeling very Thanksgivingy today, even though it's business as usual over here in Toronto. Everything's open, airports only crowded on the way out of town.

Thanksgiving also means family, and to me, one particular family member. My Grandma, Lillian. When I went to college, I moved 2 hours away from the family to Toronto, home of cheap airfare [at the time, anyway]. I started my own ritual: fly to LaGuardia on Thanksgiving morning, right before the Macy's parade started. Cab it down to the Port Authority [cabs were cheap then] and take the bus to exit 8A on the NJ Turnpike. Where Grandma lived.

We'd spend the next 4 days just being together. Of course she cooked for me. That's something that she'd had hardwired into her…she cooked for all of her kids, grandkids and associated partners, no matter how she was feeling or how many of us showed up. She made great turkey, which we continued to enjoy for the rest of the visit in different forms — turkey salad sandwiches, turkey chow mein. She made cholent and rugelach. I never left without a care package to keep me alive until I made it home.

Grandma's been gone since 1999, and every year, this day makes me miss her more than any other.