I’ve been convinced it was Thanksgiving for about five weeks now. I go to the grocery store and I swear it’s suffused with the hush and hurry of last-minute shopping before the store closes early for the holiday. I have fleeting fantasies about the people in line, imagining them arriving at a warm house where everybody knows them, taking off their coats and setting down a tinfoil-wrapped dish on the nearest available surface. I see their faces lit up with smiles instead of the irritated hard set of the mouth typical of midweek grocery runs. I wonder if they’ll get to spend it with people they weren’t able to see last year. I think back to last Thanksgiving, when I stole away to a remote Airbnb with a couple friends, still unsure if it was okay for us to breathe the same air. I hope for this one to be brighter and bigger, with a crowded table of too many kinds of carbs and our cat stealing food when no one’s watching and a stupendously messy apartment at the end of the night.
Thanks
Thanks
Thanks
I’ve been convinced it was Thanksgiving for about five weeks now. I go to the grocery store and I swear it’s suffused with the hush and hurry of last-minute shopping before the store closes early for the holiday. I have fleeting fantasies about the people in line, imagining them arriving at a warm house where everybody knows them, taking off their coats and setting down a tinfoil-wrapped dish on the nearest available surface. I see their faces lit up with smiles instead of the irritated hard set of the mouth typical of midweek grocery runs. I wonder if they’ll get to spend it with people they weren’t able to see last year. I think back to last Thanksgiving, when I stole away to a remote Airbnb with a couple friends, still unsure if it was okay for us to breathe the same air. I hope for this one to be brighter and bigger, with a crowded table of too many kinds of carbs and our cat stealing food when no one’s watching and a stupendously messy apartment at the end of the night.