I’m an angsty guy, I’m realizing — shocker of the century, I know you’re screaming. I’m rarely ever content, but I do experience contentment. However fleeting.
Holidays help ground me. They remind me where I came from and they tell me I’m not alone — even though I try to convince myself otherwise the rest of the year.
In recent years, I’ve spent my Thanksgivings in many varied locations with many varied people (or lack thereof): a friend’s family in San Francisco, my distant family in Los Angeles, alone on a hike to the Hollywood sign, and with extended family in Philadelphia.
These last couple Novembers, I’ve been able to return home to my parents and siblings in Georgia, and after several years of travels to and fro, it’s been a comfort to gather round this table of old: the dog begging for food at my mom’s lap, my dad refusing the sweet potato casserole, and my brother making toasts to dear friends and Kanye.
My beautiful sister has a husband now, and so he’s part of the table, too. I’d like to think the shadow of his essence was always there with us over the years, next to my sister, laughing at something ridiculous my brother said, only to materialize at just the right moment in just the right November.
Thanksgiving is different than it was a decade ago. A different dog, a different room. A brother-in-law. The green bean casserole now has cheese.
And yet some things never change. My mother’s servant heart. My own restless heart. A heart that can stagger home after an era of wandering.
A heart that can always come home.
This is Day 24 of #MakeNovemberTolerable. Keep checking back every day this month for new stories and discoveries of beauty where beauty may be hard to find.