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Write to Save Your Life

Painter at Easel (1631), Gerrit Dou

Friday, November 23, 2001

It was a good thanksgiving. Derek came home yesterday and we spent the day together. It's funny to think that the majority of the nation dedicates this entire day to cooking and that's exactly what I did: I cooked the full Thanksgiving dinner with a turkey, dressing, and the works, mostly to see if I could actually do it. Of course, the majority of it was simply following directions in a recipie, but it was pretty satisfying, nonetheless.

Somewhere in the mess of tapes and photographs we keep hidden away underneath the television, dad found an old video he recorded from a trip to Florida the family took back in '86. Derek and I look like little monkeys, jumping around the place, messing things up, making faces. We laughed and laughed. Most of the family members in the video have since passed away. I can't really describe the feeling it gave me to see them joking and laughing and alive. It felt good, but it also made me want to cry.

It's sad to think that those days are gone. I mean, they're all there, burned into my mind and smelling of familiarity. After reflecting on the good times we've had in our lives, I had to stop and recognize the goodness in my life now. It is a conscious effort to do it.

Whoever came up with the idea of Thanksgiving was a wise person.

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