Yes, Thanksgiving Day has passed, and I am supposed to have moved on to the Christmas season, but I like lingering with the thoughts and feelings that surrounded me last week.
We had twenty-four people at the lake house, gathered around the ping pong table and the new long farm table. We ranged in age from four months to eighty-nine years. We were four generations of grandparents, parents, aunts, uncles, and cousins. I’m delighted to count my two daughters’ in-laws as part of the family as well.
Everyone brought at least one dish, and we had a feast, along with conversation and love and gratitude. No awkward family interactions, no disagreeable topics broached, no squabbling. I thought that we might play games, but no. Talking together in shifting small clusters continued throughout the day and into the evening.
On previous Thanksgivings, we have attempted a grand gesture of going around the table, naming things for which we were thankful. To be honest, it usually felt a little staged and uncomfortable.
This year, it just happened organically.
My mother, daughter, and I had recently read Tom Lake, the new novel by Ann Patchett. The play Our Town figures prominently in it, and—happy coincidence—a friend, Barbara Sloan, wrote a blog piece about the play’s ending that she published the day before Thanksgiving.
The lead female character, Emily, dies in childbirth and is granted a day to return to earth to observe a day in her life. She chooses her twelfth birthday. It’s an emotional journey for Emily as she notices that no one is appreciating the small, precious offerings of daily life. Even the people, her family members, seem to be oblivious to each other as they go about their lives.
It is only in hind site that Emily understands all that she has left behind, and she desperately wants her beloved family to pay attention—to each other and to all the beautiful gifts of our lives. I can’t do it justice in paraphrasing here, so I urge you to go read the play again or watch a version of it. Here is a link to Barbara’s post. https://www.barbarajsloanauthor.com/blog/ And if you love the play, go read Tom Lake.
Well, as our Thanksgiving crowd talked about how much we appreciated being together, I remembered Barbara’s post, and pulled it up to read Emily’s lament at the play’s end. It was a powerful read as I let my family know how much I love them. Now. In this moment.
The day after Thanksgiving was my birthday. I was actually born on Thanksgiving, and this year it landed on the Friday after. And because everyone was in town already, we gathered again, and the festivities continued.
As a child, I didn’t like that my birthday was so close to Thanksgiving, and sometimes on the actual day. It made my birthday feel less special. When I wanted all the attention for myself, having to share this day with the entire nation made me feel short-changed.
Now, though, I love sharing this weekend! All my people are together, and I am caught up in the spirit of gratitude for my life, the people in it, and the abundance of love, compassion, and simple pleasures.