Thanksgiving

Really I should be writing about all the things I’m thankful for but where is the creativity in that? I had figured that I would be writing this post in Oregon.

Maybe in a loft apartment in Portland, listening to the cars and people outside. Maybe I would sit outside of the Starbucks in Pioneer Square and watch the workers decorate the Christmas tree to light up tonight. Maybe I would have been in an apartment in Beaverton, watching some old pals get drunk just to survive the holidays. Maybe I would have been in an old house next to a wood stove, curled up in a blanket with cocoa, listening to the rain pound on the roof. Maybe I would be on the old school swing set, maybe walking around the lake, maybe eating egg drop soup at the old Chinese restaurant. Maybe as I sat in the crumbling swing under my grandmother’s forgotten grape vines. Maybe if I walked through the tall grass of another abandoned house that I once called home.

Maybe if I was a thousand miles I would know what to say, what to think, how to act.

I’ve thought for so long that everything would be okay if I was just home. But this week I made the decision to stay in Utah instead of going to Oregon. I had the opportunity and it was all planned out but I bailed the last minute. I knew going home would be a bad idea.

So I stayed and now this will turn into a thankful post. All the things that I’m thankful for that wouldn’t have happened had I gone home.

I wouldn’t have had some much needed time to myself.

I wouldn’t have finished that project for my religion class.

I wouldn’t have started watching Grey’s Anatomy.

I wouldn’t have been here when an old friend decided to call out of the blue and invite me to spend time with her. I wouldn’t have been able to see her laugh, something I’ve missed lately.

I wouldn’t have been gone to Gilgal garden and City Creek for the first time.

I wouldn’t have met R’s family.

I wouldn’t have acquired two coconut cream pies in 24 hours. I don’t even like coconut. But I ended up with two and successfully pawned them off.

I wouldn’t have found out that an old acquaintance was gay (and padded my gaydar reliability).

I wouldn’t have hung out with some peeps from USGA and ate taste bud changing lime pie.

I wouldn’t have had the revelation that I completely mind-fucked a friend from high school and left him scarred until I ridiculously apologized for it last night.

At some point when I was lonely last weekend I was complaining about not going home. I mentioned that the decision was right but the consequences sucked. Looking back, the consequences weren’t too terrible.

Song of The Week

And just as I was all content with being away from my family and change and all that jazz I remembered my grandmother and how I had successfully forgotten her the entire day. Thanksgiving was always her day. So now I’m crying because of the injustice of a broken family and all that. I need to get back to the mindset where I was happy to be here… Anyways every Thanksgiving we would listen to this song. It didn’t matter where we were or if we were traveling I have heard this song every year on this day for most of my life. So instead of coconut cream pie, here is a slice of my childhood.