I am about to say something that is completly ungrateful and that will probably offend most people reading this. Seriously. To soften this blow I have actually edited out the most offensive parts provided this cheerful picture of a Pilgrim and an Indian Native American. I also fully encourage anyone who is easily offended and/or does not enjoy my bluntness to stop reading now. Or alternatively I suppose you can continue reading but imagine me as Sarah Jessica Parker’s ungrateful, throat clearing, socially awkward, strata-spilling character in The Family Stone.
I don’t like Thanksgiving.
I’m not really one for most holidays, but especially recently I feel that Thanksgiving has become more of the beginning of Christmas season and shopping than a holiday to celebrate being thankful for what you have (you don’t even want to hear my rant about Christmas and rampant consumerism, etc). I think this was partially born from working retail jobs. Now I just have a job where I don’t get the same days off as most people and I don’t like being expected to get together on a certain day. Honestly, I hate being expected to do anything. I enjoyed holidays when I was younger because it meant getting to see family I hadn’t seen in a long time (my mom’s sister and her husband live in another state so I only see them once or twice a year, and my cousins now live in Utah and Nebraska) and my parents always did a good job of splitting holidays in a way that wasn’t hectic because we weren’t rushing from house to house in order to see everyone and no one got offended that we didn’t see them. I can only imagine that this routine was something they worked out after a few years of marriage and juggling family plans, but I’ve never asked because it has always seemed so normal to me.
Last year and this year my parents have gone out of town for Thanksgiving to visit my aunt & uncle, and my sister since she lives up that way now. Robert and I have spent the day with Robert’s family, which is lovely but I miss my family. I miss bickering over pie and ice cream with my cousins. I miss my grandmother’s macaroni (and my granddad’s attempt to make it one year). I miss setting the table and making place cards (which usually ended up getting mocked and no one sat in the “right” place anyhow). For someone who doesn’t like holidays, I miss it all so much that I’ll probably stow away in my parents’ luggage if they go out of town again next year.