Thanks, But Different
This year has been strange af. So strange, in fact, that I just said “af.” The thing is, holidays are so cherished because they are steeped in tradition, but this year decided that tradition must be scrapped in favor of safety and selflessness. And don’t get me wrong—I am all for safety and selflessness.
It was sad to celebrate Thanksgiving without my grandma this year, but it was beyond worth it to have her miss this year’s feast if it means that she needn’t miss many more because she’s, well, you know…
I was thankful to see my maternal cousins for the holiday (following a full slate of negative COVID tests, of course), despite the fact that the gathering was less than half its usual size. There are far too many people who had to spend the holiday alone for safety reasons or, even more devastating and eye-opening, those who had to spend it waiting in line for hours just to get something to eat.
My “I Am Thankful For…” list looks a bit different this year and, for that, is a metaphor for the year as a whole. I am thankful that I had a car to come home in to avoid public transportation. I am thankful that my family has catered to my vegetarian lifestyle with little complaint. I am thankful that my mom is now very into the NYT Crossword puzzles (or at least this week she is), so I have someone to excite in correct answers with. I am thankful that I have both a lovely apartment and a lovely house in which to rest, work, and stay comfortable during a tumultuous time. And on and on and on. #blessed
This is usually my favorite time of the year—the atmosphere is always charged with merriment and lots of carbs. But tonight, I will be going home to an empty apartment, since my roommate is staying home in VA until the new year, for the sakes of safety and selflessness. My grandma sent me wonderful Christmas decorations, and I ordered a menorah on Amazon, but I will have only me, myself, and I with whom to appreciate them. My family will not be jamming into St. Pat’s in NYC with the rest of the country or settling for a picture full of strangers in front of the Rockefeller tree (which, speaking of metaphors for 2020…).
It will still be “the most wonderful time of the year” because, quite frankly, its coming means this dreadful year is almost over. But I am thankful to say it also means time with family, good food, health (fingers crossed), and roofs to shelter me in both NYC and Westchester. It is the perfect season to be thinking about all those who cannot give thanks for these things and ask ourselves why that is. I fear that COVID restrictions will prevent the thousands of volunteers who feed the poor and the homeless on Christmas Eve. I fear that holiday cheer will be overshadowed by political divide in many households. I fear the many who see no risk in grocery shopping mask-less and who thereby endanger our ability to connect, rejoice, and commiserate this winter.
And I will say one last thing: this is a year that should put your fortune in perspective, no matter how little that fortune may be, because there are so many staring at the bottom of empty wallets and eating at otherwise empty tables. This year took a lot from us, both physically and emotionally—and it is not over—but what it should never take is our compassion towards one another.
I am not a religious person, but we should all soak in the unmistakable light that this time of year rings in and ensure we give thanks where thanks is due. First responders. First time voters. Mask-wearers. Zoom software engineers. Etc.
I am thankful for altruism and kindness and truth that we proved earlier this month still reigns supreme in America. I am thankful for the ability to get a tree and make a gingerbread house and leave out cookies for Santa like this is any other year. And finally, for fear of leaving on a sentimental note (not my preferred style), I am thankful for mushrooms, because they make damn good vegetarian meatballs. Peace.