Sunday, October 7, 2012


Today in my teenage angst, I made a huge deal of my favorite weekend of the year. I look forward to Thanksgiving (which I insist on calling T-giving, because I think it's cool) every year, because on the Thanksgiving weekends of the last two years of my first undergrad, I brought a million people home for the weekend and they were the best two weekends of my life.

The first year included friends Michelle, Charyssa and her sister Loreea. Michelle had never been to my house for a weekend before and spent the first hour inspecting our cupboards. Michelle really likes food. She says her love language is gifts of food. Charyssa and Loreea didn't arrive until late Friday, but we made the most of it. We went on several walks, ate a lot of food, did some homework, and laughed. We laughed. My parents, as I've said before, are very generous people. I like to make use of this.
The next year included friends Michelle, Charyssa (who graciously travelled seven hours to join us. I may have made her), Laura and Priscilla. The latter two were new additions to my group of people I dearly loved/still love and were equally welcomed into my home. I conned them into watching The Hours, which no one was prepared for, and wouldn't let them ask questions until it was over. That was mean of me. And a bad idea for everyone's psyche. That movie is a lot. Especially if you're not prepared. Priscilla, Laura and I all bought the same hat and wore them the next week.
Both of those years it snowed. Heavy, uncharacteristically wet, flakes of snow. They were gone a few days later, but we went out and reveled in their glory anyhow.

Both of these weekends seemed to last forever. Largely because they were four days long; practically vacations. But we seemed to pack everything into those weekends. So much so that when they were over, I couldn't wait to do it again.
I look forward to Thanksgiving every year because I'm desperate for it to be like it was. It never is. My Thanksgiving weekend in Newfoundland was less than awesome and the two I've had since returning have been sub-par, but good. I'm so lucky to have have the kind of experiences that when repeated, will be overshadowed by the greater ones past. Even so I long for my dearest(s) to return to me and help recapture the wonder of Thanksgiving weekend.

I'm grateful for so much this year, and I suppose that should include what this weekend used to be.

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