It is the day before Thanksgiving and I am falling quite naturally into my mode of non celebration.
“I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving,” I said to hubs this afternoon.
“Yes you do, you’re American,” he correctly observed.
He’s right, I do celebrate Thanksgiving when I am in America.
I had never celebrated it growing up in England though, obviously, it is not one of our holidays!
When I moved Stateside as an impressionable young bride I found myself hosting the family Thanksgiving dinner more often than not because our house was bigger! Families were bigger too, where did they all come from once or twice a year?
Today I am in Beckenham where nobody, it seems, has even heard of Pilgrims and Thanksgiving. On reflection I am feeling a sense of release from having to roast a turkey with all the yummies as a mock meal for the real thing at Christmas!
We are preparing to see our dancer daughter, Malia, perform as a dead person in her college play about aids this evening. I’m trying to find something to feel thankful for in this little excursion. Watching our daughter emote may be it! Of course!
I have just got a text from her inviting us to come earlier if we like because she’s finished with school.
“How early?” I text.
“Just a bit…” she texts back, “30 minutes?” she suggests.
“On our way…”
“K” she taps.
We pack her a bag with the things we’ve been preparing for her. Her Dad’s homemade Caesar dressing; my home made pecan pie only made with walnuts; my tenderly assembled and baked cranberry crunch, a must for the turkey which no-one is cooking, and two containers of leftovers for her lunches. I’ve popped in some top sheets to save her having to wash her duvet cover everytime she changes her bed, an advent calendar to re-kindle childhood memories and a pair of woolly gloves. I also sneaked in a large tin of Terry’s orange chocolates, to keep in her room or to share!
On the eve of Thanksgiving we’re off to the seaside to watch my dancer daughter perform in a depressing series of monologues called, Elegies for Angels, Punks and Raging Queens, by Bill Russell.
This year I’m thankful for… my health?
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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