It’s the day before Thanksgiving, but I’ve already written a summary of Thanksgiving 2018. My family celebrations are so predictable that it’s pretty easy to do. I’m not going to share the entire piece here, but I am sharing a portion. I hope you enjoy it…
Plates were loaded full to over-flowing.
White wine was poured.
Other refills were procured.
Everyone took a seat in the dining room.
This is the part I fear every year—that someone will suggest we go around the table and say what we’re thankful for. I think it’s a bunch of crap. Everyone gives the answer you’re supposed to give. Thankful for family, friends, our freedoms, all of the advantages we have, etc. But nobody really says it with any feeling. They just say those things because they feel like they’re obligated to say them. I try to think of something witty and unexpected. But more than anything, I start praying that we don’t go around the table. We’ve blessedly skipped it the last few years.
A throat clears. “How about we go around the table and say what we’re thankful for?”
Shit. Seriously? It had been such a painless afternoon so far.
I tune out most of it, knowing it is the same boring, disingenuous crap it always is on every Thanksgiving episode of every sitcom ever made.
I stand up to get a refill before it’s my turn, to avoid having to come up with something witty or real. I take longer than it normally takes to pour a glass of wine.
I slink back to my spot at the table.
My mom turns her attention to me. “Well, Lori, we missed what you have to be thankful for.”
I pause for a moment, pretending to reflect. It dawns on me.
“I’m thankful we go around the table like this only once a year.” I hear stifled giggles from Steve’s girls and Kelly. I know I’ve achieved maximum effect. Pleased with myself, hoping I’ve killed the practice for the next few years, I turn back to my plate.
Normal conversation resumes. Praise of the various dishes that people are trying and general agreement. The food is all right. If we were to do a second round of what we’re thankful for, I’d say I was thankful for the salad and brussels sprouts I made because they were damn good.
A brief lull in the conversation inspires my dad to ask if front of everyone how my law practice is going. It’s going nowhere. He knows that. I know that. Everyone knows that. Secretly, I’m more than all right with that because I truly hate being a lawyer. More accurately, I hate the idea of being a lawyer because I’ve never actually done anything lawyerly in my practice.
“I’ve had some calls.” This is true. It’s just that none of them have actually panned out into becoming clients.
Steve saves the day with a non sequitur about college football. Bless him for rescuing me like that.
I begin plotting my next step. Not my next step in life. My next step in this family dinner. I have nothing to say to anyone, but I’m so bored. I start thinking of how I could stir the pot. I remember a conversation from several nights earlier when Sydney was talking about some provocative environmental science project her professor assigned before the break. Steve and I talk her out of it, telling her we know exactly what would happen. I decide to steal what was supposed to be her line:
Like the Cheshire Cat, I sit back and watch the effects of my play.
I’ll have to check back after tomorrow and let you know whether this scene actually occurred. It really easily could. We shall see…
Happy Thanksgiving for my American friends who participate in the holiday. My favorite part–indeed the only part aside from the alcohol that I look forward to–is the Macy’s Parade. Very excited to watch that tomorrow morning.