Tales of Thanksgiving

I'm staying home this year. I was going to go to New York to be with my brother and sister-in-law, but then Shelby got sick, and I got sick, and the last thing I wanted to do was get on a bus for five hours and do it again in three days. Yesterday I looked forward to leaving work at 1:00 so I could have four and a half days to myself. I'd gotten tons of invitations, but I was, and still am, feeling rather antisocial. But I wanted Thankgiving dinner.

I came upon a marvelous idea right before I was about to go home. I called my favorite New York Deli restaurant in Brookline, Zaftig's, and asked if they had a Thanksgiving dinner to go. The man on the phone said not specifically, but I could get the regular turkey dinner that was always on the menu; it came with potatoes, stuffing, the works. I said I'd be right over.

They had it ready when I arrived, and I was so excited, I rushed home and wolfed it down. I ate half of it, so I could have the other half today, on Thanksgiving. Imagine! Thankgiving dinner without leaving the house! I treated myself to two Dunkin' Donuts for dessert; who needs pie?

It's 10:00 am. Too early for dinner. I'm reflecting on Thanksgivings past. When I was a kid, we always schleped from our apartment in Manhattan to my Grandma's in Queens. I hated going over there. "Do we have to go to Grandma's?" I would whine. Going to Grandma's was fun at first. My mom, dad, brother, and I would take the subway for what seemed like hours, and my brother would make me laugh while he made faces behind my father's back.

We'd get to Grandma's and play some more, and then came dinner. It was pretty good, except for the turnips Grandma always tried to get me to eat. "She eats like a bird!" she'd screech about me. After dinner was when it got bad. Mom, Dad, and Grandma would all get drunk, and we'd stay for the longest time, until it got really dark and cold, and then we'd have to make the long trek back to Manhattan, tired and humorless.

As I got older, I'd spend Thanksgivings with boyfriends, girlfriends, and friends; we stopped doing Thanksgiving at Grandma's when I was about twelve, I'd say. In recent years I've had Thanksgiving at friends' houses; last year, I was in California with my cousins. This year, I want to be by myself. My friend Amy says it's a new stage in my life. It feels good.

So far, I've eaten breakfast, given Shelby the first of her three pills of the day, and started reading a new novel. Think I'll make myself another cup of tea. Happy Thanksgving!