With Thanksgiving coming up on Monday, I feel my craving for the stuffed beast and pumpkin pie escalating.

I try just about everything to organize a Thanksgiving dinner, but there are no takers. My brother says he “doesn’t do the whole turkey thing”, my sister’s busy entertaining her own brood, and I am childless, with my youngest just having gone off to college in the U.S.

I drop my not-so-subtle hints to friends like” Boy, do I love turkey”, or “Save me a leg if you can” but that doesn’t seem to work.

At Loblaws, I lament to a complete stranger about my empty grocery cart while he hoists his 70-pound turkey on the conveyor belt beside my two apples, quart of milk and single Turkey breast -bone out. I’ve even considered standing at the corner of Yonge and Bloor to hand out leaflets with a request for dinner or at the very least, dinner guests.

I used to make fun of people who got all excited about their turkey dinners. I grew up with virtually no observance of this fall holiday. My mom’s Brazilian, so the closest thing we got to eating turkey was her weird concoction of rice and beans. My dad, being a first generation Canadian, born to Polish Jewish immigrants certainly didn’t celebrate Thanksgiving – big family gatherings were reserved for Passover and the Jewish New year. Besides,he used to tell us that all his mother could cook was boiled chicken.

Cooking a turkey for one or two just doesn’t cut it.

I feel like Eva, a divorced, massage therapist, played by Julia Louis-Dreyfus Nicole Holofscener’s Dramedy, “Enough Said”. Among many touching and funny moments in the film, Eva, commiserates with her new boyfriend, Albert, played by James Gandolfini about their looming reality of soon becoming empty nesters. It’s the look of panic in Dreyfus’ eyes, when she talks about how she will fill her time, with knitting and yoga when her daughter is gone gone, that made me wail, and of course the fact that this was Gandolfini’s last role.

I find that same look of horror, every time I bump into an old friend or acquaintance. You can always spot a recent empty nester.

I see women in the grocery store lingering in the aisles, diligently reading every single ingredient on the cereal box hoping to avoid gluten and dairy. When one of us finally says, “So how are you doing now that all the kids are gone? ” a huge fake smile appears, usually followed by an uncomfortable giggle. But the eyes never fail to hide the sheer bewilderment of their life, now suddenly, without children.

I know empty nester men, who take up photography and pornography, women who go back to school, to add “ Holistic Nutritionist” or “Life Coach” alongside their other various degrees, while couples seem to be signing up in droves for hot yoga and charity hikes, hoping to save themselves and their marriages.

“It’ll be good for you” you hear people say. Time for you, time to figure out what you really want – which makes me even more terrified.

“ Get your Masters degree ” says my daughter, knowing I’m gonna blow.

“What do you think of marriage?” my other daughter asks
non-chalantly.

“You’re so transparent” my theatrical son announces.

So, I sign up for a university course, plan a romantic holiday and decide to take up acting.

But all I really want to do is to make a big fat turkey to stuff an entire family.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING!