Where I Am

Today is the day before Thanksgiving. I am in South Carolina. With family. At the home my late grandparents built almost fifty years ago. I am still in my pajamas. Gripping a cup of coffee. Recovering from a delicious and decadent breakfast. Vacation fare. The girls are happy. They are running around with their cousins, exploring new territory, testing new limits. Husband and I are happy. To be away. To be ensconced in nature. Trees. Marshlands. So many birds. Husband and I are tired. Vacation with kids is not vacation.

Today is the day before Thanksgiving. I am somewhere else. Somewhere between childhood and adulthood. Somewhere between the past and the future. The present. Exactly where I should be.

Away from the city, the grind I relish, my mind slackens. My stress lightens. But it is here. Always here. Away from the city, in another home, a home stuffed with memories and family pictures, I'm aware of the void. The people who aren't here, but should be. And this creeping awareness? It's a good thing. But also a hard thing.

Home and away. Here and there. Past and present and future. These things aren't as discrete as I once thought. Home follows me to away. At home, I sometimes feel gone. The past is suddenly obscured by the high gloss of the present. I look to the future and that future is threaded with now and long ago. Everything blends, doesn't it?

Today is the day before Thanksgiving. Where are you? Are you home preparing for an onslaught of visitors? Are you at the airport about to hop a flight? Are you away?

Today is the day before Thanksgiving. Where are you right now? Are you excited to see family? Or are you dreading it? Is this holiday a good one for you or does it bring with it tinges of melancholy?

Where are you today? Where are you today?