I stood in the middle of my kitchen, staring at my dining area and living room, completely stumped about how I would rearrange the furniture to seat 40 for dinner in what was starting to feel like an extremely claustrophobic space.
For my entire 44-year existence, we have had Thanksgiving dinner with my mom's side of the family. For years, my mom hosted, which meant my Thanksgiving mornings were filled with table setup, last-minute prep, lots of cooking, my dad hiding in the garage, and my brother sleeping in his bedroom or at someone else's house to avoid the chaos.
After my parents suffered a terrible motorcycle accident in 2009 and my mom suffered a traumatic brain injury, hosting our family of 40 became a bit much for her, and it was passed on to various other family members.
Years of creative problem-solving in the Odyssey of the Mind competition came in handy, and I finally figured out how to set up my tables in an L so everyone could be seated—maybe not comfortably, but seated nonetheless.
I pilfered the storage in our basement, pulled out every fall-esque, rustic-looking knick-knack, tablecloth, table runner, pumpkin, and candle I could find, and set the tables.
