In an effort to be a more active blogger, I’m going to start writing weekly (or biweekly) entries. If there’s one thing I’ve come to realize in the age of Trump, it’s that regular therapeutic activities – like writing, reading, or screaming helplessly at the sky – are very important. So, enjoy!
As I write this, I’m on a flight from D.C. to California, paying more than I should for internet access and club soda. This year, I’m spending Thanksgiving with family in my hometown (as opposed to the now-classic Friendsgiving in D.C.). It’s been three months since I last saw everyone, so I’m really looking forward to making the rounds and sharing bear hugs.
One of the things I miss most about living in California are the family traditions. While I always make it back for Christmas, I almost always miss birthdays, religious holidays with celebratory food, and, of course, Thanksgiving.
Tomorrow morning, I’ll wake up to the smell of cinnamon rolls and laughing at the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Mom will probably be flipping through Black Friday ads, dad will be mimicking parade singers in falsetto, and my sister will be capturing it all for an Instagram Story. We’ll all look like hell in our PJs, but we’ll be together.
It may seem horribly “basic” or gauche…and that is absolutely okay. I didn’t realize how much I would miss that until I moved across the country.
Thanksgiving lunch/dinner (linner?), like other holidays or events, is an excuse to come together and eat food that takes longer than 10 minutes to cook. And I’m all about that. Hearing about what’s going on in my cousins’ lives or about how much a grandparent can’t stand fill-in-the-blank is actually incredibly refreshing. Yes, even the awkward political comments that I pretend not to hear are part of this equation (can we please keep the George Soros conspiracy theories to a minimum, guys?).
No matter how much I grow and advance in life, I take comfort in the fact that my family – with all its fun and flaws – is there, ready to set a place for me at the table. I’ve picked some phenomenal friends since making the move to the East Coast, some of which have basically become family. But my actual family are a set I’m stuck with – and I wouldn’t have it any other way. Their love is not only cherished, but necessary.
I’m looking forward to unplugging from my life in D.C. for a few days. In a few hours, I’ll embrace my parents at the airport and trek back to my hometown. At that point, the countdown to Turkey Day kicks off. Bring on the Costco pumpkin pie and random Keurig cups my mom keeps stashed away in the kitchen! I’m ready to eat foods I rarely eat and enjoy politically incorrect card games with my sister and cousins.