Home For The Holidays

Over the last week or two, various people have been asking me about my Thanksgiving plans. When I explain to them that, like most years, I’m doing Thanksgiving solo, most people give me that “you poor thing” look that is usually reserved for news of dead pets or a bad breakup. Thanksgiving is apparently one of those days when you’re supposed to be with other people, and to spend it alone is considered both sad and a little weird. It’s a kind of well-intentioned peer pressure that seems to accompany this holiday, as well as Christmas. And I usually don’t feel like explaining the logistics of trying to go back to Wisconsin or the fact that any invitation from a friend here in the Cities would probably be complicated by an inaccessible home.
I’m quite happy to be doing my own thing, actually. I have some writing and several episodes of Lost to catch up on. I’ve spent a few holidays in the hospital and I think that makes these holidays alone seem like less of a big deal. It was in the hospital that I felt the most alone, the most cut off from the rest of the world. To spend Thanksgiving in my own home, with the knowledge I’ll see friends later in the weekend, seems more than acceptable to me.