Thanksgiving 2009

I slip easily back into this house, this house where I lived for ten years. The people are the same. Well, they are different, but same enough. Predictable enough. My sisters seem more grown up without me, my dad’s health seems worse, and when I get a glass of water from the kitchen, Jersey doesn’t run over and beg for an ice cube. The furniture has been rearranged. I miss having enough furniture to rearrange. There’s a new kind of snack in the snack drawer, a new car in the driveway, a new person eligible to drive the cars in the driveway. My car is the same, side mirror still duct taped.

I’m probably different too, but in a same enough kind of way. I used to stay up after everyone went to sleep, and now I’m looking for a dark room, any dark room, to lie down in at 11:00 p.m. I’m the first one to bed.

I walked in the door and I don’t even remember my apartment in Boston. This is where I belong. I suddenly hate my apartment, for being too small, too empty, for smelling weird and feeling so cold.

The only thing that draws me back to the East Coast is this schoolwork. Grad school stops for no holiday weekend. There are still books to read (seven), tedious papers to write (two), even more tedious pages of assignments (sixteen).

So I read four,

Nation by Terry Pratchett, which was long and interesting but completely devoid of any inspiration for the paperwriting that must ensue today,

Stay! Keeper’s Story by Lois Lowry, which was probably one of my favorite Lowry books, strangely enough, being as it is a first person narrative of a dog’s life,

Looking Back: A Book of Memories by Lois as well. I found it thoughtful and inspiring and, thankfully, short, and

Gathering Blue. No, it wasn’t as good as The Giver, and the threads that join the two companion books seem tenuous.

 

I’ve also been drinking energy drinks, which is neither as fun nor as painful as I thought it would be. Eating too much. There are some things that should never be in my kitchen. Most of those things fall under the category of Sour Cream and Cheddar. Sitting. Feeling thankful that, even though I hate my apartment, I get out of the house and walk somewhere almost every day. And that, no matter how much this pains me on some days, there is no convenient place for me to buy canned and bottled beverages on my way to my every day activities.

I have been talking to my grandparents, helping my sister make cookies, unloading the dishwasher, going to the bar, waiting in line outside Target at 4:30 in the morning, taking a guided tour of the old prison, allowing Say Yes to the Dress toy with my emotions, using my sister’s laptop, sleeping on the couch, and waking up with a sore neck kind of headache.

Four days is a long time but not long enough.

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One Comment to “Thanksgiving 2009”

  1. Keep in mind that your move to Boston is temporary, a means to an end. When you are done there, you can go anywhere again. Home will really never leave you, but don’t let it make the present somehow unbearable.

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