This year marks my son’s second year — his sophomore year — at a university located more than a thousand miles away from our family home. When we first faced the moment of sending our only child off to college, the experience was bittersweet and emotionally taxing; the separation brought on an ache that felt both unfamiliar and profound. Yet, over time, as we have gradually adapted to the rhythms of an emptier house and a quieter daily life, those pangs of the so-called empty nest have softened considerably. When we left him at school this past August, I found myself only slightly misty-eyed, allowing those fleeting tears to give way to pride and joy as I focused on how genuinely content he has become and how much he has flourished in both academic and personal spheres. His intellectual growth, newfound independence, and sense of purpose have filled that earlier void with reassurance.
Perhaps this growing sense of calm is why I didn’t feel greatly troubled when my son told us last year that he wanted to stay on campus for Thanksgiving rather than fly home for the short holiday break. When he made the same suggestion again for this year, I met it with understanding rather than disappointment. His decision, though initially unconventional by our family’s standards, makes complete sense given his circumstances — and, as it turned out, it gave our small family an unexpected opportunity to create a new kind of tradition.
During his childhood, our Thanksgivings adhered to a comforting and familiar pattern, the kind of traditional family gatherings that could be taken straight from a storybook depiction of the holiday. Our extended family assembled for elaborate feasts that featured an abundant display of classic dishes — the golden turkey, the spiral-cut ham, and every imaginable accompaniment from buttery rolls to half a dozen varieties of pie. These gatherings weren’t merely about food; they were occasions for connection and laughter, for competitive post-dinner board games that lasted well into the evening, and for outdoor activities like turkey trot jogs and impromptu games of touch football whenever the brisk November weather allowed. For our son, those holidays were times to be surrounded by cousins, aunts, uncles, and grandparents, a vivid backdrop against which so many of his childhood memories were formed. I know that those experiences — the noise, the warmth, the togetherness — are indelibly woven into his sense of family and gratitude.
But the college years have ushered in a new phase of life, one that has required him to rearrange priorities and balance competing demands. During his freshman year, he found himself adjusting to the academic rigor and autonomy that come with university life. The classes were more intense and the expectations higher than anything he had encountered in high school, and with final exams looming just after Thanksgiving, he quickly realized that the brief holiday break might be better spent studying and taking a bit of rest on campus rather than undertaking the exhausting travel home and back again. When he shyly floated the idea of staying put for the holiday, my husband and I could see the practicality behind it.
Rather than feeling hurt, we appreciated his maturity in weighing what was best for him. That first year of his college experience had already turned our family routines upside down, redefining the way we stayed connected. So we decided to embrace the change rather than resist it. If everything else in our family life was evolving, why not allow our Thanksgiving to evolve as well? Without hesitation, my husband and I made arrangements to take Thanksgiving to him instead of the other way around. We bought plane tickets, reserved a modest hotel near his university, and planned a long weekend that, though unconventional, would keep us together as a family of three.
Explaining this change to our extended family was delicate. His grandparents, aunts, and uncles expressed some disappointment, as attending the large annual gathering was a time-honored tradition. Yet, after a thoughtful conversation, they came to understand our reasoning and supported our decision. We reminded them that our son would be home just a few weeks later for winter break and that Christmas was non-negotiable — a time when our family circle would once again be complete under one roof.
That first Thanksgiving on the West Coast was, in many ways, transformative. We left behind the chill of the Midwest and exchanged gray skies for the serene, sun-drenched beauty of Southern California. Palms replaced leafless trees, warm sea breezes substituted for the sharp bite of late autumn air, and the entire atmosphere felt infused with a relaxed sense of possibility. We spent long hours with our son exploring the campus that had become his second home, walking along the beach, lingering in small cafés, and exploring local attractions. It was an intimate, unhurried weekend — so different from the bustling, noisy, and sometimes stressful family marathons of years past. In its quiet simplicity, our new Thanksgiving felt restorative, a welcome pause before the whirlwind of the December holiday season.
Now, as we prepare to repeat the experience for a second year, our anticipation feels calm yet joyful. This Thursday, my husband and I will board an early flight to the West Coast, check into our hotel, and pick up our son from campus. We may stop by In-N-Out for a simple, unfussy dinner — a small gesture that perfectly captures the easygoing spirit of our new holiday routine. The rest of the weekend will unfold as it may; we have chosen to let the days take shape naturally, free from strict schedules or expectations. There is something profoundly liberating in allowing a holiday to be guided not by tradition, but by presence, comfort, and connection.
Of course, I recognize that this sort of arrangement might not suit every family. For some, altering long-established traditions could stir feelings of loss, resentment, or alienation — and those emotions are entirely valid. Every family’s dynamic is unique, colored by its own history and attachments. But for us, this seemingly unconventional choice has been nothing short of rewarding. It has offered us a deeper understanding of what truly matters: being together, wherever that may be. And in embracing that realization, I find myself grateful beyond measure — not merely for the day, but for the evolution of our family’s love itself.
Sourse: https://www.businessinsider.com/college-kid-isnt-coming-home-thanksgiving-2025-11
