Thanksgiving 2015

It is Thursday night. Thanksgiving. I am sitting an expat bar. An old one. There is no sign of Thanksgiving here. I am talking with a friend. Listening mostly until I am warmed up by a cold beer and then talking some myself. An old topic comes up, a he said/she said topic. One that used to drive me crazy since what she said was from an alternative universe where truth is warped to satisfy one’s ego.  But on this night it did not bother me. I took a sip and said that people do this, they justify their positions sometimes at the expense of others. But that doesn’t make it true and if you want the truth, well there are more pleasant conversations to have.

Two beers down, I bundle up and walk home. It is maybe 25F with an AQI of 250. 20 minutes later I am crossing the street to my apartment. I will be alone when I get there. I’ve had this experience several times over the past three years. Holiday evening done, walking home alone, a few drinks in my system. My mood was always very dark, very alone. But on this day I do not feel dark, I do not feel alone. I feel good.

On the day after Thanksgiving I have the kids over after school since it wasn’t my week to watch them. I lay out a spread that reminds me of my youth. Cold cuts, cheese, chips & dip, deviled eggs, and turkey. Ok, no turkey since it is hard to get here but roasted chicken. The kids arrive and are happy except for Elisa who has come down with a cold. We serve ourselves and settle in to watch the movie “Adam’s Family Values” and the kids start laughing during the opening credits. Elisa cozies up to me and watches before she goes and takes a nap.

A co-worker asked me last week if I was going home for the holidays. By home, she meant America. I get this questions every year. And my response has been the same every year. Home is where my kids are and my kids are here. But this year, unlike the past few years, it felt good to say this with no lingering regret.