Thanksgiving is the gateway holiday, the one that sets our feet on the (steep) slope to Christmas. At least that’s what it feels like. In fact, some kids answer the what-are-you-thankful-for question with, “That Christmas is almost here.”

But as rushed as they sometimes may seem, some Thanksgivings are memory worthy.

One of my favorite Thanksgivings happened the year I didn’t bake a turkey or make a single pie. My husband and I were alone that year — our married kids were all going to be at their in-laws’. So we decided to hit a local restaurant, because who wants make all that food for two people?

The day before Thanksgiving, a young couple moved into the neighborhood. We visited them, found them delightful and weary, and on the spur of the moment, invited them to be our guests at the restaurant the next day. The joy and relief in the young mom’s eyes was evident. As we dined, we learned about them, their kids, their hopes for their new home and job, and much more. We ate until we were stuffed, left the dirty dishes on the table, and walked away with friends for life. It was a winner, winner, turkey dinner moment.

Another memorable Thanksgiving dinner stays with me because I learned the worth of a gracious guest. A friend joined us that Thanksgiving Day, one whom I knew was a great cook. At that time, I was on some medication that made me foggy brained but, hey, I’ve prepared this meal for so many years, I could do it in my sleep, right?

I fumbled through meal preparation, we finally sat down, and only then did I notice I forgot to make gravy. She noticed it too and cheerfully insisted that gravy is so full of calories she shouldn’t have it anyway. She graciously ignored the undercooked yams, the overcooked dressing, the cranberry sauce that was actually soup, and the dark spots on the rolls. All through the meal she poured out compliments, to the point I almost believed her.

From her I learned the importance of thanking someone not necessarily for the finished product, but rather for the effort put into it. Imperfect means someone at least tried. I think those might have been her words, in fact. All I know is I’m a better guest because of her. Find the good, ignore the bad and put your host’s comfort above your own.

My most memorable Thanksgiving happened 20 years ago. I was so busy with planning and preparing I almost missed the chance to invite my parents. I thought they were going to be at another siblings’ home but then learned they would spend the day alone. Nope, not possible, I told them. Please come be with us.

So they drove the hour and came. Mom bustled around the kitchen with me while Dad visited with my husband and played with the grandkids. There was nothing special about the meal; it was the traditional one we always have. But there was something special about having those two with us. I didn’t fully understand it until a few months later when Dad’s health began to deteriorate. Within months, he was gone. In the photo of us all gathered around the turkey at the table, our cheerful faces knew nothing of the shadow that would soon fall across our lives. But that nearly missed Thanksgiving memory is forever cherished now.

We can’t know which Thanksgiving moments will stand out in our minds, or the mind of someone at our table. The food always disappears quickly, but some memories will last forever.

Perhaps what we’re most thankful for at Thanksgiving is … Thanksgiving.

D. Louise Brown lives in Layton. She writes a biweekly column for the Standard-Examiner.