the nature of the great grey beast Thanksgiving

the nature of the beast goes thus:

thanksgiving is an orange and grey time of pumpkin and apples and gingerbread, a time of family and football and fullness, both literally and figuratively, a time to cook and laugh and be in the kitchen. it is not about the food but rather about the preparation of food, the company. working together in a warm kitchen when it is cloudy and just beginning to be cold outside. it is the final feast before winter, a final gathering before each is alone in the darkness.

thanksgiving is a single moment where i am alone in another room, maybe the dining room, maybe setting the table. maybe i walk past the doorway to the kitchen and feel warmth billow out towards me, the clinking of silverware, the mixing smells of pies and turkey and cinnamon, the sound of laughter, shouts to check the oven or stir the gravy, and here i am in this still moment, alone, more fully part of the happy chaos than at any other time of the year and yet still able to be separate, to slowly stir and sip and inhale, as a too-hot cup of tea. apart and a part of. perfect balance. i feast and i do not worry.

but.

but it is hot out today, bleached sun and palm trees, and my family is 2,600 miles away. there is no smell of pumpkin and turkey and cinnamon, save for small wafts emanating from neighbors' houses. my cousin, my only relative for 500 miles, feeds me turkey cooked in butter and potatoes with butter and gravy and stuffing and i eat it and i love it but it is not the same, going to his apartment for a pre-cooked meal that is eaten in 5 minutes, scattered dead-ending conversation.

i would be content to nest all day and read and nap in the sun but there is that lingering feeling of propriety, of what ought to be done on thanksgiving. of how i would rather be with my whole family, cooking, laughing, making pie.

and so.

it is a beautiful day and the sunlight in LA in november is just stunning. my nest is warm and my cat is trying to eat the cupcakes. i have destroyed the rest of the batter but it is only 3 PM and i have that yawning gaping hole of the afternoon to contend with.

holidays are not my friend. i wish i could say they didn't apply to me but they do. and it is a strange, awkward beast. i am glad i am not required to eat anymore today but i know that i will. eating to make up for the lack of family. throwing up because there is too much time in this day.