Most families head to a grandparent’s or older sibling’s house for Thanksgiving. My family does the opposite. Everyone comes to my parents’ house, even though they are the youngest in their families. On both my mom’s and dad’s sides there are ten kids, so that means a lot of aunts, uncles, and cousins.

My parents are from Gabon, a small country in Central Africa. Some of their brothers and sisters live in the U.S. in places like Texas, California, Virginia, and New Jersey. Even with the distance, they try to come to our house for the holiday so we can all be together.

The food is a big deal. My mom cooks all day and fills the table with mac and cheese, turkey, collard greens, rice, plantains, and stuffing. My aunts show up with seafood, pies, and other desserts, so the table is packed and nobody leaves hungry.

The house is never quiet. Someone is playing music, people are dancing, and my older relatives are telling funny childhood stories. We play games like Uno and Monopoly. My cousins and I usually end up in my room playing video games, but we still jump in when everyone starts dancing.

For us, Thanksgiving is mainly about being together. A lot of our family lives far away, so this is one of the only times we all see each other, talk, and catch up. We eat, laugh, compare life in California and Texas to life here in Maryland, Virginia, and New Jersey, and learn more about our family roots.

That is our tradition. It is loud, crowded, and full of food. And we like it that way.