The Thing for Which I Am Most Thankful

The world being what it is, these days, it’s easy to forget not to begin these kinds of posts with overdone clichés.  I’ll spare you that much, at least, though I would like to spend a little bit of time talking about life, the universe and everything.  Some of it may seem a bit contrived, but bear with me as though I were sitting in the room, watching you expectantly as you read.

For those readers not here in the U.S. (and there are a startling number of you guys), today is a day we here in the States call Thanksgiving, where we typically gather with family and/or friends to have a giant meal, watch a parade, maybe a football game, with the idea that we’re meant to be thinking of the things for which we’re most thankful.  The funny thing is, today isn’t really my Thanksgiving.  But I’ll get to that.

I woke up this morning with the ghost of a headache that must’ve come and gone in the night, which was the first thought for which I was thankful.  I had a dream this morning of some people that I miss very much and likely won’t see again for a long time, so there was a touch of sadness in my heart to match the phantom ache in my head.  All the same, I was, as always, just thankful to have woken up at least one more time.

When I came out of the bedroom, there was the lingering smell of the pumpkin pie baked last night in the hallway.  Pre-baking, and cooking, as a whole, of various components of the feast is a bit of a double-edged sword.  On the one hand, you get a house filled with delicious smells for days.  On the other, you have to find the will to resist partaking in a personal feast or the cunning to make up an effective, believable lie as to why there is, in fact, no pie when you were supposed to be the one to bring the pie.  It’s terrible.

Today, there’ll be the usual gathering of relatives at my parents’ place, where I’ll most likely spend the majority of my time playing with my nephews, aged 3 and 5, because they’re the closest thing to contemporaries of mine.  We’ll eat some food then most likely head home.  I know my mom would like us to spend more time there, but it’s a small place and not a terribly comfortable atmosphere, for a lot of reasons I won’t go into.

For all that I love my parents and step-siblings, though, my real Thanksgiving is tomorrow.  Normally, on Friday afternoons, I have a few friends over for our weekly gaming session.  The last few weeks, with my training early on Saturday morning and some pretty heavy stuff with one of them, we’ve had to miss it.  One friend, in particular, has been going through some very tough stuff which, unfortunately, has made it so that he’s been all but unable to leave the house for weeks.  The emotional stress of it has been pretty terrible and, what’s worse, I knew that, his family being what it is, he’d most likely be all but alone today.  So I hatched a plan.

Tomorrow, we’re all going to get together and have what promises to be a huge and fantastically prepared meal, in no small part due to my culinarily gifted friend David, who can make from seemingly random ingredients an incredible meal and, given more a week to plan and prepare, can do what amounts to magic.  He’s my oldest living friend (we’ve known each other since we were six) and one of the most generous souls I know, have ever known, and it humbles me often that he’s chosen to stay my friend all these years.

Johnny and Daniel, the other two members of my gaming group and my friends for well over a decade now, were there for me in the darkest parts of my life.  There have been falling outs and disagreements, but it has never occurred to me that they wouldn’t always be around, and I hope that it’s been the same for them. 

This’ll be my one trite bit, but I use it here because it’s true.  These three guys, all my friends, really, are my family as much, maybe more, sometimes, than the one I was born into.  They chose me and I chose them.  I’ve always said that it’s foolish to call a place home, because time changes where you live, and where you live changes where you’re from.  The safest place to put home is in the people you love and my friends are my home.  While we may fall behind on the housekeeping now and then, it’ll always be there, waiting, when I need them, and vice versa.

So I’m thankful for that, for them, for the people who have granted me their presence in my life, now and in the past, and a bit of space in their hearts.  Without them, in some ways as literal as figurative, I wouldn’t be here today and I know that.  So, even if the world gets in the way, know that I love you all.  Thanks.