Now that I have plans, I'm feeling excited about Thanksgiving. I plan on making a big, traditional meal. So even though I'm waking up a little bit sad today, I need to do what my grammy would do.

I glance at my clock. It's five a.m., but I can't sleep. My guests are arriving around ten this morning, and we're going to eat around eleven o'clock. So, I roll out of bed to start the turkey. I already brined it and prepped some of the sides last night.

I go into the kitchen, pull the turkey out, and prepare it in the roaster. I start the water for the sweet and white potatoes. Then I mix a can of mushroom soup with fresh green beans.

After I'm finished, I leave the kitchen and return to my bedroom. I jump in the shower, dry my hair, and am in the middle of putting my foundation on when my phone buzzes.

I swipe at the screen and chirp, "Happy Thanksgiving, Melanie!"

Her voice sounds raspy as she replies, "Happy Thanksgiving."

My red flags wave. "Melanie, what's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Georgia. The kids were throwing up all night. Their temperatures are slightly over one hundred. Even Darren's got a fever."

"Oh no," I say, as disappointment shoots through me.

She continues, "I'm so sorry. There's no way we can come over."

My gut drops, but I assure her, "It's okay. Is there anything I can get or do for you?"

She sneezes several times.

I pull the phone away from my ear. When she stops, I bring it back.

"Sorry. No, I'm just really sorry. I feel horrible leaving you on your own today. Plus, it was going to be so much fun."

I take a deep breath, trying to sound happier than I feel. "It's okay, don't worry about me. Just get better. If I can do anything, just let me know."

"I will. Thanks. Bye." She hangs up.

I stare at myself in the mirror. What am I going to do now? I have a ton of food with no one to eat it.

I blink back tears, but grief overwhelms me and wins. My cheeks turn wet.

A memory of my grandparents on Thanksgiving comes to my mind. Loneliness rears its ugly head. It's something I've felt way too much of lately.

"Stop moping," my grammy says in my head.

I pull myself together and go out to the kitchen. The aroma of turkey fills the air. I stare at all the food, trying to figure out what to do.

I have to finish making everything. Otherwise, it'll go to waste.

I can take it over to Melanie's.

Doing my best not to sink into a pity party, I turn on some music and finish making everything. I save two servings for myself and text Melanie.

Me: I'm going to drop food off. I know y'all are sick, but you can have some when you feel better.