2020. This may just be a number but to some it is the worst year of their lives. I have never truly despised 2020 until my family started talking about next week. Next Thursday, the 26, is Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving pasts have all been joyful expect the Thanksgiving incident of 2013, but right now that’s irrelevant. Despite that tragic past experience which involves an old family friend and a fort created by me and my sisters, I was looking forward to having a somewhat normal event this year. Then the numbers spiked. COVID-19 cases surged as Thanksgiving grew closer. My grandparents decided it was no longer safe to come to our house for Thanksgiving. Despite thoughts in my head, it wasn’t my fault they weren’t coming this year. My middle school had just gotten shut down, so I would have been safe to go near them when Thanksgiving rolled around, but then my two older sisters came home one after another. Stephanie, a freshman at UCONN, was given the okay to see them. She got her COVID test back, which was negative, and would be home for 2 weeks by the 26. Then Samantha came home a week later. Samantha, my older sister and junior at UCONN, may have tested negative for COVID-19 but she would have only been home for a week. Despite all this, there is also the fact she is the only person that physically goes into work in my household. My mom works from home and if my dad does go into work he doesn’t see anybody because he is a land owner. So when Jim Ballas, my father, goes into work he avoids his tenants and if he can’t he wears a mask and keeps a 6 foot distance. Even though Samantha doesn’t see anybody at her work and stays very vigilante it is a risk we are not willing to take. Without any guests, my family wants to do a smaller dinner at our usual dinner table but I want to eat in the dining room, where we always eat, to secure any normality we can.