Thanksgiving Day

 

I slip in and out of dreams.

I drift into darkness, lightness, and finally into the crisp glow of daylight.

I open my eyes reluctantly, and I welcome the autumn.

 

It is Thanksgiving. The realization envelops me with warm happiness.

                  No homework.

            No school.

      No early morning rude awakenings by a shrill and monotonous iPhone alarm clock.

 

I struggle to rise.

The warmth that has overtaken my bed beckons me to stay, to sleep, “perchance to dream”.

It seeps into my skin, dancing across my brain, coaxing me into endless slumber.

      But I know I can’t succumb.

            It’s Thanksgiving. 

                                                            Pies need baking.

                                                     The turkey needs basting.

                                 The Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade needs watching.

 

But I linger.

I cherish this moment.

This feeling that overwhelms me is a feeling I have been longing for all year.

My nose is cold as it senses the morning air.

      I hear the whistling of the kettle upstairs, religiously making my father’s morning tea.

      I notice the faint whisperings of morning news from the living room above me.

      I smell cinnamon rolls crisping in the oven, bacon on the electric griddle, and coffee bubbling over with overwhelming excitement.

I linger. I cherish this moment.

 

Then I feel the urge to spring out of my warm cocoon of soft sheets and pillowy bliss. 

I throw open the covers and yank my blinds open.

      It’s sunny. Not the cloudy and oppressive abyss of the marine layer that lingers and invades our days, crawling over the ocean four blocks away.

 

            Carmel’s Majestic Marine Layer. Dampening our days since the beginning of time.

But today isn’t one of those days.

 

I unlock the door that leads from my bedroom to the backyard.

      I step outside and 

            Inhale.

            Exhale.

The Thanksgiving air has arrived.

 

I wander over to the porch swing and sit on the leaf-covered cushions.

      And I look up.

I am surrounded by azure sky and golden sun, poked by the soft and energizing nip in the air.

I close my eyes and allow the air to flow into my lungs and command my body.

      My brain is filled with memories.

            Crunching through the leaves in Regent’s Park.

            Baking apple pies from the trees in our backyard.

            Curling up by the fireplace with my puppy and listening to calming music.

            Watching A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving with my family, all cooing and reminiscing at the cartoon that defines our family’s traditional            

               holiday season.

 

I feel air-borne, and a fluttering thrill drums away in my stomach.

My favorite season is in full-swing.

And better yet, I have my family to say good morning to.

      I am so thankful for the little blessings in life that surround me, pass unnoticed through life, asking for meager recognition but rarely receiving

         any.

      And here we are, worshiping a day devoted to giving thanks.

I want to soak up this moment, copy it to my brain.

 

I look up again.

      An ocean of blue, with seafoam-white clouds, surfing waves of breeze across the sky.

      Brittle amber and golden leaves smile down on the world, awaiting their final flutter to the cold ground that will become their grave.

      An autumn chill in the breath of wind waltzing across my face, stinging my nose yet embracing my body in a excited cradle.

      A sense of foreboding and gelid wintery storms that brings death to life.

      A trusting of springtime redemption and rebirth.

 

My puppy comes bounding through the door and flies onto the porch swing.

He yips in euphoria and attacks my face with wet kisses.

 

I am warm.

I am at peace.

I welcome nature into my lungs and into my heart.

I anticipate traditions with the fluttering thrill that monotonously drums away in my stomach.

I smile. 

I radiate.

I breathe.