I’ve never had turkey for Thanksgiving.

Growing up, only my dad really liked turkey and we never would get one for this family and food-centric holiday. We wouldn’t have cousins and aunts and uncles over; they all lived too far away. We wouldn’t set the table with fine china, or bake pumpkin pie. We wouldn’t even change out of our pajamas. Thanksgiving in my house meant BLTs and angel hair pasta with butter and cheese sprinkles (powdered cheese not unlike the stuff you use to make boxed macaroni and cheese). It meant making a Blockbuster run the day before to get a bunch of movies, hanging sheets over the sliding glass door to block out the southern California sunshine and piling the couch with blankets and pillows. In a family where we weren’t allowed to watch television and didn’t have cable, we spent the holiday of thanks stretched out in front of the television popping one movie in after another, walking to the kitchen when we were hungry and trying to keep our dog Toby from scarfing food off our plates. I wouldn’t even brush my hair.

After high school, I moved to Boston for college. It was the first time I had ever moved and I wanted to go as far as I could. Flying home for Thanksgiving was too expensive and since I lived in a student dormitory, I had to leave campus. That year I took a bus to New York city to stay at a friend’s apartment with a few other stranded West Coasters. We went to the Macy’s parade and every time the people in front of us raised their arms to take pictures or cheer we ducked under them to move toward the front of the crowd. We eventually were pressed against the barricade, as close as you could be to the floats. Our Thanksgiving dinner was instant mashed potatoes and microwavable stuffing. Everything was a bit runny. We drank red wine that tasted like grape juice and watched the Friends Thanksgiving marathon sitting on the floor in front of the couch while snacking on baked brie.

My second year, I went to New Jersey to spend Thanksgiving with my friend Rebecca’s family. I brushed my hair, wore a dress and sat at the kids’ table. Her cousins from both sides of the family stopped by and before dinner everyone watched football in the living room. One of her cousins brought in a rifle. The entire family was very concerned that I wouldn’t get enough to eat because I was a vegetarian. I assured them I was used to not eating turkey, and that with third and fourth helpings of mashed potatoes, I would be plenty full. I also ate the green beans and the bread. At the end of the meal we celebrated Rebecca’s birthday, which is in December but she would be at school for the actual day. Her cousin scoffed when she received a book as a present. Rebecca liked it.

The next Thanksgiving I was studying abroad in London. I had an internship there and didn’t get time off for the American holiday. My friend Kate’s family visited and rented a flat, so we spent Thanksgiving with them, sharing a traditional meal with creamed corn, cranberry sauce and pie. I made deviled eggs and forced Kate’s younger brothers to try them. They thought they were okay. I ate five.

Last year I lived in an on-campus apartment at school with three friends. Two of us were from the West Coast and stayed in the apartment for the holiday. We invited other strays over for dinner and assigned everyone a dish to make. I made cheddar mashed potatoes, biscuits and baked brie. My roommate Kristen made stuffing and decorated our door with Thanksgiving-themed drawings. We made hand turkey place cards with people’s names and stocked the fridge with champagne and cranberry juice for cocktails that our guests drank out of mismatched glassware. Our centerpiece was a mason jar full of cranberries with sticks we’d scavenged from outside and bay leaves. We also filled a Disaronno bottle with cranberries. It sat on our windowsill until we moved out.

This year I still live on the opposite coast from my family. I still don’t eat turkey and I still love mashed potatoes and wine. I won’t get out of my pajamas or brush my hair on Thanksgiving, I’ll make pasta with cheese and watch movies all day. After all the years of trying new things, it feels nice to return to tradition.