I love Thanksgiving. I love the fact that (until the day after, anyway) it isn’t an overy-commercialised holiday. I love my memories of my sisters and I in my parent’s huge kitchen, helping to prepare the meal and talking. You notice that I didn’t actually say cooking, right? My mom was a wonderful cook and she did most of the cooking; as much as I would have loved for some of that kitchen magic to rub off on me, it never did. Thanksgiving was all about heavenly food, eaten in much too large quantities, lots of talk, watching the Macys parade, and just being part of a family.
This year wasn’t the best year ever, as I went from a horrific work environment to quitting my job in an extremely shaky economy. It hasn’t been all bad, however, since I finally had the opportunity to do a lot of creative work that I haven’t had the chance to do before (stress and anger not being conducive to anything creative that doesn’t involve cutting and welding metal into sculptures). I did some art for book covers, and I wrote part of a book.
I’m thankful for a lot of things, not the least is that I’m still here. Last spring I thought dark thoughts about suicide almost every single night – no exaggeration. And now I’m happy most of the time. We’re on the thin edge, as a lot of people are, but we’re still here, and we love each other. And that is pretty damn fine.
Raise a glass, and have a wonderful day with the ones you love. And be very thankful.
My parents (before my Mom died)