This Thanksgiving Eve finds me sitting at an Ikea kitchen table that I shared with an ex, once upon a time. It’s now in my bedroom. In my parents’ house. There’s only one chair. (The other one was lost in a flood.) It’s also from Ikea. This visual gets more depressing with every passing detail. There’s even a candle. Unlit. And an opened box of Entenmann’s “donuts.” And a feline reposing in my lap. Just kidding… about those last two things, anyway.
The floor behind me is, literally, covered with books and laundry and 10 pairs of shoes and five pieces of luggage and 37 pieces of cameras and a statue of Ganesha.
So, at 28, this probably isn’t exactly where most people would want to be. But I am thankful to be here.
This has been one crazy year (so far). I didn’t realise until my mum brought it to my attention, but I set foot on five continents in eight months. That’s, like, the definition of a crazy year. But also the definition of a remarkable year.
Here’s a quick list of things for which I am extra special grateful in 2013:
Travel pillows, electronic visas, New Zealand (just the whole country), the right to legally work in the country where I’m currently residing, the craft beer boom, Cheez-[t]its (still), ESPN, 4G, Snap…chat…? Err, I mean, Viber. Pumpkin-flavoured anything, hand-me-down sweaters, spare bedrooms, helicopters, modern medicine, snow, snow, snow, waves, waves, waves, La Roche-Posay, Jersey pizza, Australian coffee, tabbed Gmail, public libraries, manners, Paris, DSLRs, and, of course, the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.
In addition, I am thankful for parents who let me turn a tainted kitchen table into a desk under their roof, even though I am well beyond the age when it’s acceptable to live with one’s parents, rent-free. They do this, I know, not just because I am their favourite (and only) daughter, and not because they’ve resigned themselves to the fact that I’m a hopeless vagabond, but because they know that I earn my modest living by doing exactly what it is that I want to be doing. And that is something in which they believe. Even when it involves drinking enormous quantities (of juice) with professional athletes, sleeping in sketchy dorm rooms with weird Brazilian girls, and actively pursuing life as a ski bum. Even when it means that sometimes, I need to lean on them.
That being said, I’m also thankful that I’m moving out on Friday. (Hence the mess.)
In truth, I’m thankful for every single person who is a part of my life these days—Friends, both old and new, the most radical brother man who’s ever been, editors, flight attendants. You are the most amazing people I can imagine. And even though I’ve spent most of this year as a bit of a transient, I have felt especially anchored. And loved.
So cheers. And Happy Thanksgiving.