thanksgiving alone

hello.

happy thanksgiving. i’m sitting alone in my vacant, empty, (and somewhat) liminal apartment. my movers were supposed to be here yesterday with my belongings, but alas, that didn’t happen.

there’s a great deal of expectation with holidays, events, birthdays, etc. that often lead to disappointment. i would assume there are many people out there who look forward to thanksgiving dinner at their parents or relatives house, but end up sitting on the couch scrolling tiktok, bored. or even worse- dodging hasty political discourse between your uncle, your brother, and your grandfather. perhaps, your family opts to eat out. or maybe you’re hosting, completely overwhelmed with the behemoth to do list in order to make this day flow with ease to please your guests.

as an introvert who typically finds comfort in solitude, i can’t help but feel a hollow ache settling in my stomach as i stare out the window of my apartment on the 18th floor. across the way, through someone else’s window, there’s a family gathered around the table- lots of them, sharing a meal and laughter together. tiny windows everywhere glow around the city as the sun begins to set, filled with families crammed in tight quarters. cozy, but together. undeniably together.

my family lives on the other side of the country and i don’t have many friends here in the city, despite having lived here for years. i could have opted to go to a restaurant, but i wanted to save money. and it’s times like this when i can’t help but kick myself for not being brave enough (and willing enough) to put myself out there in more social settings in hopes of making a new friend or two.

as an introvert, thanksgiving in particular, serves as a reminder- a gnawing ache of loneliness, that i really am alone. there’s a sense of contentment and gratitude i feel, overwhelmed by the fact that things could be much worse, knowing there are people out there in the world without a place to sleep or eat. i laugh at the irony as i write this because i don’t have a bed or table here in this apartment yet. lots of floor time and an air mattress that reminds me of my age a little too frequently. i think i would find more contentment in this day if i had my books, but i’m feeling especially alone without them.

microwave thanksgiving food, an ipad for a tv, magazines for entertainment because my books are locked up in a box god knows where. there are periods throughout the day where i feel pity and bitterness because i’m only human, then i’ll snap out of it and remind myself how lucky i am to have food and a warm place to sleep in a city i love so dearly.

writing helps me- a balm to the soul and reminder that maybe someone out there somewhere is feeling this way, too.

i write this short letter to you on a whim in case you, too, are spending this holiday alone.

if you’re in a similar boat, it’s not too late to end this holiday on a better note. if you’re up for it, consider a spontaneous trip to a restaurant to enjoy a warm meal. are there movie theaters open near you? could you join a last minute thanksgiving dinner with a friend?

if you’re tapped out, order chinese take out, put on your favorite film, eat pie with whipped cream, call your best friend, watch youtube, listen to jazz and read, bake something sweet, write out an agenda to make tomorrow and this weekend even better. self soothe, whatever that means to you.

one of two things will happen for me this evening. i might go to a jazz bar to feel something. or i’ll opt to stay home, eat pie on my air bed, and watch when harry met sally for the 5th time this week. hell, maybe i’ll do both.

if you’re reading this, i love you. and if you’re reading this alone on thanksgiving, i love you even more.

i’ll see you tomorrow (and again on saturday and sunday). i have lots of fun letters to look forward to.

happy thanksgiving, reader. i hope your day gets brighter. please eat something good.