It's Thanksgiving and I have been up since 4:45 am sorting out the difference between being thankful, and accepting things as they are. I always get very lonely around the holidays. I left New York state 18 years ago. You'd think I'd let go of the memories of the hills, the people, and what I felt like there. My circular harpies remind me it's never pretty, the mountains are never as tall- you can never go back for these reasons. I have been away from for so long, I do not remember childhood traditions. The boys are with their father as always. I still have not yet formed traditions of my own. At least not other than the cyclical harpy that feeds off the conflict of being thankful for what and who I have and aches for something I am not even sure I am remembering properly. It's a yearly thing. To let go of my days of coming into adulthood and true independence is not something I'm willing to do. I ended up in the deep South with ever intent of moving on in few months- to keep the gypsy life that I was enjoying. One thing lead to another and to quote Jimmy Buffet- "Summers and winters scattered like splinters ad 20 more years slipped away...."
I'll be ok. I will go back to bed after I cry for bit, go to the orphan Thanksgiving that one of my dear friends will host and enjoy myself. Until then, unhelpful as it may be MY tradition is aching longing in private and feeling very alone for an hour or two before a party.
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