On being thankful
This Thanksgiving will be the first in, well, ever that my family has been incomplete. The first time my son, a college junior, can’t come home, not even for a day or two, because he’s currently on the other side of the Atlantic. Strangely enough, the French consider the fourth Thursday in November to be just any other jeudi. Evan has classes, and so I have to figure out how to celebrate the holiday without him in it.
For me, that means planning an unconventional celebration. One that includes plane tickets and hotel rooms and restaurant reservations. Someone else will plan and cook the meal. Someone else will be polishing the silver and setting the table. But it seems more than appropriate, considering 1/4 of my family is on the other side of the planet, that we don’t gather around mine.
This doesn’t mean our Thanksgiving is cancelled, only postponed, or that I’m not thankful every day, because I am. For my friends and family, for my community of writers and their never-ending support, for my readers who seem to genuinely like me and my story, for the fact that I get to sit around in my pajamas all day and make stuff up for a living. Maybe that’s the lesson here — that giving thanks shouldn’t only happen a year.
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone!