Thanksgiving Memories

I have never been much for Thanksgiving.  Not much in fact for most holidays.  But part of that is because I feel we should be thankful every day, rather than devote a day to it (and then go beat people up at the mall the next).

As a kid?  I loved it.  Without going too deep into it, while I didn’t get along with my mother, her parents were without a doubt my preferred grandparents (with everyone long dead and gone I can post all this).  They had a wonderful home in Port Schuyler; it’s still there, although I forget what street it’s on, and you only see stone pillars marking the driveway from the street.  The drive wound up a long hill, at the top of which was a massive weeping willow, and there was a phenomenal yard, so perfect for sledding, or just rolling down in the grass.  This was where we always did Thanksgiving, granted the weather was NOT recommended for grass-rolling.

The house was huge, and I remember a fireplace, and the dining room where we ate.  My poppa loved cats (ironic; my mother hated and feared them…perhaps that’s why I always have one by my side now) and they were kept in the basement when we came over.  Sadly, I have no pictures of this house.  And as my grandparents got older, they moved to an apartment over next to St. Brigids.

But these memories will never be recaptured.  That house, and their love, is only in my mind’s eye now.  This leaves me sad and a little bitter, especially in the week before, when all I hear at work is what everyone is doing for Thanksgiving.  Folks, do you know how many times I’ve sat home, watching football, eating some frozen Marie Callendar’s dinner?

But overall, I’m thankful.  It just has nothing to do with this day in particular.  I look at Spirit, little silly crackhead cat, and every time I see him look at something as if he’s seeing it for the first time, I love him more and am grateful for his companionship.  Every time someone likes my art, and compliments me, or asks about the books, I am grateful.  Every time a friend thinks of me, in the smallest way, I am grateful.

And these things happen every day.  Along with childhood memories, remember that.

Published by azbaelus

Local artist, author, slacker, gamer!

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