I'm Major Jackson, and this is the slowdown.

My children are grown.

Romy turned 21 this year, which is wild.

I am effectively an empty nester, which means I look forward to the holidays like a farmer waiting for the harvest season.

I don't see them enough, and I worry that too many phone calls for me might disrupt their

days.

I keep it cool and occasionally text them.

Meanwhile, I look at the calendar, prepare rooms in my home, and ponder which dinners and movies and board games we can

share. When I was younger, as an introverted kid, I did not value large family gatherings

during holidays, especially not Thanksgiving. Everyone squeezed into my grandparents' home. My uncle sat in front of the TV,

transfixed by a football game. Tons of aunts at the dining tables smoked and chatted away about their

jobs. My cousins played ping pong in the basement and showed each other the latest dance craze.

I thought it was merely a day of noise.

When my father married into a large family replete with step-siblings, these gatherings went longer.

Now I appreciate what I once shunned.

Gather me among kinfolks.

Let's talk loudly with drinks in our hands.

Let's enjoy the bounty of family and rituals that fill us with connection

and the purpose of loving each other.

And when we sit down to dinner, let our blessings surround us.

Let us relish, joyful interactions.

Today's poem speaks to our deep-seeded hunger for closeness.

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