Thanksgiving 2024
Thanksgiving was a quiet holiday this year. I sat downstairs with the dogs, and we watched childhood Christmas specials on YouTube. I skipped the side dishes and just cooked the turkey legs and thighs. It turned out really yummy! But I did miss my mother's sweet potato dish and my father's giblet stuffing. I should add that this "alone" Thanksgiving was mostly due to petulance, which I absolutely ignored. I munched the leg, drank hot tea, and enjoyed watching stuff on Netflix.
I've only spent two Thanksgivings alone before now.The first was spent in my Nova, homeless. Kick me out at sixteen, and I won't come crawling back. I was happy being away from the drama. Plus, owls.
Homeless, I drove my old Nova to a bit of land that served as a church summer retreat. It was in the middle of nowhere and in the middle of the coldest winter since the 70s. They didn't have a gate. I avoided the empty lodge except to grab water from the outside faucet, and found a campsite surrounded by firs instead. I could cook on the campsite's pit. I made it into a home of sorts. But it was still rough living.
That Thanksgiving, I stole a turkey leg, a can of yams, and marshmallows from Safeway. I already had butter at my campsite. I put snow in my pot until there was enough boiling mess to add the leg. The yams were a disaster. I ate some of it from the can, and stirred salt, pepper, and a pinch of cinnamon into the rest. I forgot to steal some OJ. The can went on the cooler part of fire pit, with marshmallows on top. I added the cooked turkey leg to make the skin crispy.
That dinner was so delicious! I regretted not having any pumpkin pie. I hauled the water and bones way past my potty pit. I didn't know if any bears were lurking, and I wasn't about to take chances.
The second alone Thanksgiving was in Denver. I drove up to share it with my friend. Unfortunately, his boyfriend passed a football too hard. It struck his chest, collapsing his lung. They spent the holiday together at the hospital. I didn't mind. It gave me a chance to unwind and watch the rain make patterns on the glass patio doors. Zen.
Today's is the third. I don't have kids, so I'll eventually have more empty holidays in my ripe old age. I mean, if I'm in my 80s, Jeff's in his 90s. We'll probably be in an assisting living center by then.