Sunday, November 27, 2005

All The Days After

"This is how people die..." Rachel and I giggle uncontrollably. We sit side by side and dig through plates of her mother's mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, stuffing, turkey and rolls. It's the day after thanksgiving. It's also 3:30 in the morning. We feast on starches and realize that we're sharing thanksgiving dinner - technically. Then we polish the meal off with slices of pumpkin bread. I tell her I feel like a concrete block has been placed inside every major artery. It's on the way home, at a quarter to four in the morning, shivering against below zero temperatures - that I realize the whir of Thanksgiving is over. I've survived the night at the bar. Just barely. But I made it. It has become apparent to me that some people are completely unaware of how they act when they've consumed massive amounts of alcohol. Those people should be strapped to a chair and shown a video of themselves over and over again. It's also become apparent to me that some people get drunk. Others get uglier and sluttier than you ever thought possible. Glad to see things haven't changed much. I made it through TG dinner with my mother and her new boyfriend. I made it through breakfast with Daddy Dearest and my unshowered little brother and his dog hair covered pants on my microfiber car seats. Thanksgiving has always been bittersweet to me. As my family would gather at a table that seemed to grow in length year after year and my friends gathered around similar tables with their families - I always wanted to bottle them up and bring them with me. My own little box of treasures to share the day with. Driving home I realized how lucky I am - because every day with them is a treasure - and I get to celebrate those days all year long.

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