Thanksgiving has long been one of my favorite holidays. There is something horrifying and wonderful about a house full of people that don't normally congregate for an entire day. There is laughter and loud conversations from across the room, remembrances, football, shouting, women in the kitchen talking and making food, and kids running around. It was the only time that I ever felt like I belonged to a family is on those holidays where we piled into a home and broke bread.
I am not very good at making turkey. I think I made it once in Seattle and I was 23 years old. I made enough food to feed 12 families and I was only feeding me and my boyfriend. Can you say massive leftovers? It is ok when you are sending them home with family as they leave for the day. Most of my years were spent as an orphaned kid in a strange land tagging along on other people's dinners.
One of my first years in Seattle my friend Mikela invited me to her apartment for dinner with all the other hippy kids. It was my first and last ever vegetarian Thanksgiving. Have you ever eaten Tofurkey? Yuck. I did make a mean stuffed eggplant with brown rice, sweet potatoes and onions. But most importantly it was about being included in their circle of friendship. We ate dinner on a coffee table sitting on the floor listening to old records drinking wine and smoking weed. When you are 22 you don't need much more than that really.
Another year my friend Faith invited me to her family gathering. She had a large family and I felt a bit out of place before I got there like I was crashing their dinner because her mom didn't know I was coming, but when I got there I found that I was one of many holiday orphans. Each of the kids brought someone to dinner that had no place to go. This was a loving family, a religious family but in the best sense of the word. They had faith, but they weren't uppity or righteous. They were love personified. Before dinner Faith's mom played the piano and all the children sang. It was like listening to a choir of angels. At dinner, before we ate a prayer was said and each person at the table had to tell something they were thankful for. I was overcome with the perspective I had on life. That dinner changed me, changed how I viewed everything in the world.
The remaining years were spent at one family member's or another. Some years, after my divorce, Chloe would go to her father's for the family gathering and I would be left home alone, in the dark, crying and waiting to go to work. It was one of the most horrific feelings in the world. One year, my ex's father left their dinner and drove clear across town to bring me a plate of food. I sat in front of my computer eating dinner, crying, and talking to my friend in Brazil on video chat. Those were some of the darkest years I can remember.
And then, there is Michael. He is the master of the bacon wrapped turkey and the keeper of my soul with the most amazing cranberry relish I've ever had. Since he has been here our dinners have been intimate....just the two of us with Chloe getting home in time for pumpkin pie, but they have been wonderful holidays. The food has been spectacular and for the first time I have a real family of my own.
This year is bittersweet. It is the first Thanksgiving in our new home...one of many, but it is also the first Thanksgiving that I won't get that crazy call from my mother at the family dinner in which the phone gets passed around the house and I say the same things to 10 different people. I'm going to miss that. I miss her. I know everyone must be tired of me boo hooing about my mom, but bear with me as I get through these holidays. I have always loved family despite my rare appearances at any sort of functions they might have. This is due to time and money and distance, not from lack of love.
I am thankful for my beautiful family, my crazy howling dog, our collective good health, our great neighbors, the girls at work that hold me up, my wonderful boss, and all the grace and wealth in our lives. I am thankful for taking a leap of faith and believing that Michael and I would make it despite the huge odds. I am thankful that this year I found a way to relate to my soon to be 13 year old before it's too late. I am thankful for the lasting friendship and love of my father. It is something I have always wanted.
So, enjoy your dinners and think of those who are less fortunate. Maybe go out there and do something about it, or bring home a stray to share your dinner. Take those crazy family phone calls. Love every minute of the day. Peace to you all. I am blessed by the few that read these ramblings. It keeps me out of trouble.
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