Tomorrow, I will set the table for the smallest Thanksgiving dinner I’ve ever hosted on a family heirloom that still reels from the indignity of its life as a desk.
Oh, 2020, you emerged with such promise and so quickly became a four-digit curse.
Thanks for nothing…and thanks for everything you’ve taught us about what arises from that nothing.
It’s true that the sturdy dining room table I inherited from my mother in-law, the Outlaw Mary Jane, spent most of its life happily burdened by wax-dripping birthday cakes, celebratory salmon and steak meals, and generations of intense game players and messy eaters. Sometimes, I wonder how uncomfortable it must feel for a piece of furniture so used to happy chaos to bear the solitary weight of two mute laptops and me, a boring remote employee.
In a million other years, I’d never be okay celebrating Thanksgiving in such an understated way. But, this is 2020 and I’ve learned exponentially during these long, painful months.
I’ve learned, for instance, that distance can be relative and distant relatives so very close. My own immediate family stretches from Queens, New York to Los Angeles, CA, that’s 2,808 miles as the well-trained crow flies, and, thanks to technology and sheer determination, we still chat every day. I can almost feel their heartbeats the way I used to do when they rested on my lap and I understand, now, that love and parental engagement know no boundaries.
I’ve learned that beautiful things lie within empty spaces.
All that nothingness of 2020 has taught us what really matters in this old world.
COnsider for a mOment that hollow O and every wOrd it bOOsts from its cOre.
COmfort. JOy. LOve. GlOry. ChOcolate. MOtherhOOd. MemOries. GrOwth.
That’s the ticket out of here, right? Hope?
I hope you and your family enjOy a healthy, happy Thanksgiving.
May GOd bless yOu all.