MY GIFT TO YOU—GET YOUR FREE EBOOK—“THE 5-DAY JOURNEY TO CULTURAL AWARENESS”!
I’m not one to have pity parties often, but sometimes, they are needed.
Sometimes it feels good to feel sorry for yourself, to complain, to wallow in your sorrows, to lament.
Sometimes it’s healthy to count your losses, to grieve, to acknowledge what you feel . . . the good, bad, and the ugly.
Today, it feels more bad and ugly.
I feel lonely.
It’s Thanksgiving, November 28, 2024. It’s Thursday, yes, always the fourth Thursday of November.
If I close my eyes, I can hear the circus of voices chattering and chuckling around me. I can smell the aroma of Grandma Esther’s traditional Creamed Corn Casserole wafting through the air—the one I made with her that morning—alongside the roasted turkey, the creamed green beans, the mashed potatoes, the fresh rolls, the pumpkin pie. I can see the flurry of adults and children, gathering from near and far, for the celebration. We unite in the dining room, tables spread across the room, spilling over into the family room. There is hardly enough room to contain everyone.
It doesn’t matter. We sit tightly, closely. It’s cozy. It’s intimate. It’s family.
It’s everything I don’t have here in this place, in this land I call “home,” in this country on the other side of the Atlantic.
I don’t have family. I don’t have turkey. I don’t have pumpkin pie. I don’t have Thanksgiving.
Or do I?
It’s true that I’m too tired to open my own home, invite people in, and be hospitable. It’s true that no other Americans in our expat community invited our family for a Thanksgiving meal. It’s true that I’m not traveling across the state for our large family reunion. It’s true that I’m not taking portraits with our extended family and posting them online. It’s true that four of our five children (Yes, I now have a daughter!) live faraway in other countries and continents.
But, is that really what it’s all about?
Today, I walked the dogs and did some fun writing with my online writing group with friends scattered all over the globe. We went to Costco to eat 1.50 euro hotdogs and to buy a rotisserie chicken that is moist, yummy, and ready-to-eat. I’m proudly wearing my Kansas City Chiefs sweatshirt (even though they don’t play until tomorrow night), my Dr. Pepper socks, and my wild American flag earrings. We are going to pull out our Christmas decorations from the bowels of our basement, put up the tree, and make the house look and feel festive. We are going to turn on some fun Christmas music and watch “Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving.” We are going to make and enjoy Grandma Esther’s creamed corn casserole and Nana’s delicious pumpkins bars. We are going to open our last cans of Dr. Pepper that we brought from France.
We are going to be thankful.
Because, that is what Thanksgiving is all about . . . even if today, I feel lonely and disconnected from my country, my culture, my traditions, and my family. Even if I’m having a pity party.
I’m still thankful . . . thankful for YOU!
Happy Thanksgiving!
P.S. Walking out of Costco today, we met three wonderful Americans (also from all over the world—U.S., Mexico, and India) who are here visiting their kids who are studying abroad in Spain for a semester. They were shopping and planning a big Thanksgiving feast for 15 American students in their Airbnb tonight. They came all the way from the US to help them celebrate! It was such a gift to meet them and talk to Americans. For just a few moments, I truly felt at “home” in Spain.
—THE CULTURAL STORY-WEAVER
MY GIFT TO YOU—GET YOUR FREE EBOOK—“THE 5-DAY JOURNEY TO CULTURAL AWARENESS”!
LET’S WEAVE CULTURES!
Have you ever felt lonely on Thanksgiving or during some other holiday? What can you do to fill that void (like our trip to Costco) or how can you reach out to others who may not have friends and family around for traditional celebrations?
We invite you to tell us your own cultural stories and global adventures . . . as you engage with the world, breaking down barriers, building bridges, and “weaving cultures”! Write about them in the comment box below.
