Thanksgiving, 2020

Normally, on Thanksgiving, there are seven people in the house running around wildly. Preparing and cleaning or packing and cooking. Usually, it’s not a day of reflection or peace of thankfulness. It often comes with arguments and more stressful comments than genial quips.

This year, though, we had just an aunt over for dinner. We spent the day peacefully converging on our childhood home on a beautifully brisk November day. Warm enough to play catch with the frisbee and football all together. We cooked, though I did very little, and played games. And talked about our lives and had a stereotypically chaotic zoom call with out extended family. We ate delicious food and enjoyed each other’s company and laughed and laughed and laughed.

My stomach is aching. Not from a fight or an argument or a piece of flying china… but due to a day spent clutching our stomachs and gasping for air. Our laughs wheezing and our eyes streaming with tears of hilarity.

Or maybe it just hurts cause of the food.

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