I remember Thanksgiving last year. My father's family, my mother, brother, and I, and my 'adopted cousins' (my mother practically raised this woman since she was 14. She's now 31 with a 13-year-old daughter and a 6-year-old son) all crammed in my grandmother's house in North Carolina. It was warm inside, plenty of food, plenty of people.
This year, it's looking a lot different. My family has split up. My brother works and lives just outside of Charlotte, NC now, I go to school in just outside Raleigh, NC, and my mother is in Delaware. My brother is staying with my aunt close to my grandparents. I live on campus (otherwise homeless), and my mother bounces around the state of DE from friend to friend until our settlement funds come through (she's homeless too).
I owe $2300 for this semester in tuition. I'm broke and without plans for Thanksgiving. I haven't seen my brother since August. I've seen my mother twice since August. My phone is shut off, and I have no way to get a hold of anyone except my best friend Jessy (I IM her cell phone and she tracks down my mother). Jessy's had it rough lately too; her mother walked on her family again, leaving her and her brother and father to fend for themselves.
But you know, its okay. I don't really get along with my extended family. I'd rather spend it with people I know care for me, like Jessy and her family. I'm going to track down my mother this week. I already know I have a place to stay for the 5-day break: with Jessy like always. I know what my brother is doing for Thanksgiving, I'll see him Tuesday for the first time in months. If I can track down my mother, we'll have Thanksgiving at Jessy's house. Besides, my mother already swears that Jessy and I are more like sisters than best friends.
Finally a Thanksgiving to really be thankful for. My mother, and my best friend. My real family. We may not have 40 people crammed in a house. We may not have to wait in line for a plateful of delicious food. We may not be watching football on a big screen (as Jessy doesn't have cable). But to have a roof over my head, warm place to sleep, food in my stomach, and surrounded by the people that matter, that's all I can ask for.
It doesn't have to be turkey and potatoes and homemade pumpkin pie. I'll settle for a large ham and pineapple pizza, watching movies, and be embarrassed to death when my mother and Jessy's father start telling stories about us as kids. I'll settle for Jessy and I trying to drink my mother under the table. I'll settle for teaching Jessy's brother how to play beer pong and whoop his and mother's asses when we hold a tournament. I'll settle for the five of us at a pool hall (as we all love to shoot pool!) on Thursday, blowing quarters on the tables instead of arguing over a football game.
Thanksgiving is what you make it. It may not be traditional, functional, or acceptable, but I'll be damned if it won't be something I'll truly be thankful for.
