Not So Lonely Thanksgiving
The refrigerator door was propped open by my hip, the light escaping into the kitchen. For most people, refrigerators were stocked on this day with containers full of leftover turkey, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie, and other holiday favorites. For me, the refrigerator contained some half empty bottles of salad dressing, a container of skim milk, an open can of black olives, and other food that was probably well on its way to expired. After blankly staring at the shelves, I slammed the door shut with my hip and walked away.
In the living room there was a blanket hanging half off the chair and one draped haphazardly across the back of the couch. I flopped back onto the couch and curled an arm around a pillow. The flicker of the television was the only light in the apartment. The scenes of a holiday movie played on the screen, as they did in countless other homes. On Thanksgiving night, it was as much a tradition for people to be sprawled out in front of the television as it was for them to have stuffed themselves all day. Other people were still bustling around, likely at the end of a day spent hopping from one family function to another.
The day had been low-key for me, as it always was. When you don't have a place to go on Thanksgiving, it's hard to get caught up in the stress of the holiday. I didn't have to worry about preparing a 20-pound turkey while making sure my apartment was clean before guests arrived. I didn't have to worry about baking a pie or making a side dish or two to bring to someone's house. I didn't have to worry about the things everyone else was concerned about that day. I also didn't get to experience the sense of togetherness that typified the day.
While others were giving thanks for their families, their friends, and all the blessings bestowed upon them, I was wallowing in the events of the week, the events of the last year, and all of the lost chances. I could feel myself being pulled in a constant downward spiral. I hated the feeling of not being able to do anything. When I had finally realized that this wasn't going to go away on its own and that I couldn't will it away by myself, I started seeing a therapist. My depression has being turned into a downward spiral, a lack of any type of relationship with anyone, the strain of the job. They all weighed down on me and made it that much harder to pull myself out of the spiral.
So on Thanksgiving, I sat by myself in an empty apartment. I didn't see how the day was different from any other. I lay around, unable to sleep; I periodically checked the refrigerator and cupboards, barely picking at anything. My eyelids were heavy and my stomach was churning. Pulling the blanket over myself, I let my eyes fall and take me.
My body felt tense. A flash of blood; the gleam of the knife; a beam of light shining in my eyes; a zipper being undone. The images of my daily life let my eyes stay closed for long. But it was the knock at the door that caused me to gasp and sit up. I caught my breath before getting up.
I shouldn't have been surprised to see her, yet I was. With plastic containers cradled in her arms, she was leaning against the doorway.
"I thought you might like some leftovers, and maybe some company," she told me.
"Mayor Mare," I started. "You didn't have to come all the way out here. You didn't have to bring me leftovers. You didn't have to leave your family to check on me."
I opted to silently take a step back and let her in. She made her way to the kitchen to stash away the leftovers. She grimaced at the sight of my refrigerator, probably hoping that I was eating well, but knowing her, I'm sure in the back of her mind that I ate the basics. I'm sure this was one of the reasons why she stopped by. Maybe having some home-cooked food ready to heat and serve would tempt me.
Really, she wanted more than to just make sure that I had something to eat. She knew that I had been struggling, and knew that things kept piling on instead of getting easier. After my latest job, she was worried that I was going to break.
When she walked into the living room I was hovering in front of the couch. She sat down and put her arm across the back of the couch. After hesitating for a second, I sat down next to her. I leaned back, my neck resting on the couch.
"Ms.Harshwhinny?"
Opening my eyes, I found myself curled against her, one arm sprawled over her chest. I cleared my throat and started to move away from her. Her arm tightened around my shoulder.
"I didn't want to wake you, but you were …" she stalled, trying to think of what to say, "talking. You were talking in your sleep."
"What?" Sleep? "What was I saying?"
"I couldn't really make it out," she said, hesitating.
I shifted closer to her, the sleep still heavy on my eyelids. I could tell she was lying. Her voice was a dead giveaway.
"I don't even think I thanked you for stopping by. Then I go and fall asleep on you."
"It's alright. I just wanted to know sure you weren't alone on such a special day," she told me.
My face was turned toward her and when she looked over, she caught my eye.
"Hey..." I paused. "Thanks."
It turned out that I did have something to be thankful for this year. Some people may have spent their day with dozens of friends and relatives, but this one visitor was more than enough for me. I had never had a traditional sense of family anyway. For once, I flashed a smile. It wasn't much but it was better then what I was feeling earlier.
"Thank you... Mare." I whispered.
Author's Note
Gratitude is the inward feeling of kindness received. Thankfulness is the natural impulse to express that feeling. Thanksgiving is the following of that impulse. Being alone isn't the way during this day. Even if you only have one person in your life, you should be happy and spend it with them. Happy Thanksgiving everyone(pony)
