It is the day before Thanksgiving. Matt and I are not traveling this year, and we live in a city with no family, but many dear friends. Many dear friends who are traveling for the holiday, though, or uber familied with traditions of their own. We'd decided not to mope but to enjoy a simple day, eating out at a restaurant, taking a long walk, seeing a movie. Sure, that will be fine, we told ourselves.
Hanging with friends one night last week, discussing where everyone was going for the holiday, we said, "Oh, we're going to a restaurant, no big deal." And I felt the flood of emotion, the deep homesick, the lack of family. I admitted I was sad, that I'd rather spend it with others. A dear uber-familied friend said, "Just come over! We'd be happy to have you guys. We thought you were going out of town." My eyes, which were moist, brimmed for a moment before I took a deep breath and said, "Thank you."
Today I will be shopping for root vegetables and apples and pomegranates. I will be pre-heating and whisking and chopping, and I will be so grateful. Friends are not hard to come by, not necessarily, but a truer connection comes with vulnerability, with the simple words, "I'm so sad." Or, "Can I help?"
And always, always, "Thank you."
Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.
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