My seat was so far at the end of the table and smushed against the wall this Thanksgiving that the joke with my aunt (the meal’s host) was I felt like I was eating outside.

Honestly, I was next to a fairly sizeable window, and the weather outside was pleasant. Had I just grabbed a folding chair and dinner stand and went on the other side of the window, I would have had more room and still been the in general vicinity of the meal.

But everyone knew that wasn’t the point. We were all together, and that is what mattered. Our family matriarch, my grandmother, died in December of 2014 and this Thanksgiving marked our first without her.

My aunt told us that grandma asked her to continue the tradition or getting our family together on Thanksgiving.

That’s not as easy as it used to be, because the family my grandmother used to preside over is now four generations strong and includes more than 50 people. Four of my grandma’s five children are grandparents themselves, including my dad.

The crew originally from Louisiana is now spread from California to Florida, and the ones still living in state call home in a half dozen different cities.

As you know with your own families, that’s a whole lot of people and agendas to get together under one roof.

Once you get them there, then the next problem arrives. How do you serve more than 30 people comfortably when you want them all together at one table?

You get creative. My aunt’s house, like most I have been in, doesn’t have a room or table big enough for that many people.

You have to give her credit though, she set out a few tables together, started them in one room and continued them into another with the help of a few open doors and we all settled up next to each other.

There was even a cute children’s table next to us that held the family’s youngest generation.

My aunt’s oldest son and I stationed ourselves across from each other at the table’s far end.

We each took the stance of eating with one had while our other arm was wrapped around our wives.

There really wasn’t room for a two-armed meal.

Despite the cramped quarters, the meal was perfect. We were together, and everywhere I looked there was someone who loves and cares for my little family. That’s not a given, even when family members get together.

My children are 5 and 7, and it’s a great thing for my wife and I to know that holidays mean family time for them. Days off from school mean more time with cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents.

I hope it stays that way their entire lives, and if some good, quality family time means getting scrunched up against a wall, that’s a dinner spot I’m thankful to occupy.

Stephen Hemelt is publisher and editor of L’OBSERVATEUR. He can be reached at 985-652-9545 or stephen.hemelt@lobservateur.com.