Thanksgiving has always been an uncertain time for me. It started around 2004 or 2005 when I split up with my boyfriend of the time right around Thanksgiving, which I was supposed to spend with him at his house. I was going to school on the East Cost. Mama Peaches and my younger brother had recently moved to Hawaii. My father was in Florida (and I wasn't very interested in spending Thanksgiving with him and his wife anyway). My next closest relative, my aunt, lived in the midwest but celebrated Thanksgiving with her husband's family.
Mama Peaches, desperate I spend Thanksgiving with SOME semblance of family, bought me a flight out to my aunt's house for a very interesting Thanksgiving. I continued to spend Thanksgiving with my uncle's family every year, and grew to love their very Cleaver gathering: Writing down the things for which they are most thankful (and then guessing to whom the thanks belong), allowing the youngest children time in the spotlight, no disagreements or passive aggressive tensions.
Since meeting Mr. Peaches, we have spent two Thanksgivings at his mother's house, and one year at The Cleavers. The plan this year was to spend the holiday again with his mother, just a few hours away, but she called on Tuesday to say that she had been sick and didn't think she would be able to cook or host.
The Cleavers were going out of town this year.
My parents were eating at a friend's house.
Predicament.
And that's when William Shatner showed up.
No comments:
Post a Comment