Holidays have been different this year. I’m holding onto joyful memories from years ago—like one time when my Aunt Max volunteered to handle the Thanksgiving turkey:

Aunt Max was funny and quick-talking. She never took anything too seriously, including time. And she wasn’t much of a cook, so the other sisters made sure that she was up to the task—peppering her with questions, making sure she'd get a big enough turkey.

Thanksgiving dinner was set for noon, and most of the family was there by mid-morning. The table was set. The sweet potato casseroles were out of the oven. The pies were on display. The Jell-O molds were out on special plates. Food was piled everywhere. But no Aunt Max.

My mother fretted and Aunt Alice fumed. The boys buzzed around trying to get a spoonful of this or a crust of that. Aunt Bee tried to keep everything in order. Still no Aunt Max. Then one of the boys spotted her coming up the walk with Uncle Crowbar (that name is another story).

They burst through the front door, and Uncle Crowbar banged the heavy roaster on the kitchen countertop as people crowded around to see the turkey. With a flourish, Aunt Max lifted the lid, proclaiming, “Biggest Turkey Ever!”

Everyone jumped back. It was RAW.

An uproar followed as everyone loudly explained that “bring the turkey” meant a cooked turkey. Aunt Max considered that, then laughed. She said we'd eat Thanksgiving dinner in layers—a Jell-O course, a potato course, a pie course—finishing with a turkey course, in about 6 hours.

It worked. Eventually, everyone got back to eating and talking—and Aunt Max was never in charge of bringing the turkey again.

Though Thanksgiving this year isn’t going the way we’d planned, we can adapt, smile about Thanksgiving memories, and help each other get through this.