Thanksgiving 2015

Thanksgiving was epic. We fell over each other in too small a space and loved it. There were 23 of us in all on the day itself, and 10 of us who slept overnight for the long weekend. Couch sleeping and floor space were involved. We went to see The Hunger Games en masse at one point, and the younger folks went Black Friday shopping and we also started a 2000 piece puzzle on Friday afternoon that aggressively challenged us, but with a combination of stubbornness and indignation and sheer gut level commitment we finished it by the time everyone left to go home on Sunday. My husband and son noticed that I had altogether less anxiety about everything this year. One clue was the fact that when my husband sliced the ham and piled it artlessly onto the serving plate and then put it directly on the table, I looked at it and contemplated taking it back to the kitchen to arrange the slices in an pleasing whorl, garnished with cherries, but decided to leave it be. I had rearranged the living room furniture for better flow before everyone got up, and tidied the house, and then I made my one dish, corn and cheese soufflé, and my son made his one dish, candied yams, and my cousin made the potato salad, and my darling husband made everything else, turkey, ham, mac and cheese, broccoli, stuffing, gravy, cranberry sauce, and our neighbors brought sweet plantain and the rest of our guests brought wine and spirits and pie and other yummy desserts, and it was all highly entertaining with just the right mix of energies, which I think is why Thanksgiving is my family's favorite holiday. Everybody is just super chill. But now it's Monday and I have lots to get to, so I'm going to put up a photo album of Thanksgiving 2015 and just leave it at that. I hope your weekend was mostly good and mostly soul-restoring, as mine was, and may the rest of the season unfold for us all in much the same way.

My niece and her best friend from childhood (who has become a Thanksgiving regular), were the last to leave on Sunday, and they refused to make the five-hour drive back to D.C., where they both now live, until that puzzle was completed. I observed to my husband that they have the ornery streak that is present in most of us born and raised in Jamaica. They refused to let that puzzle beat them. And that, I believe, is the mark of a Jamaican education, that can-do spirit, which is less can do than will do, Goddammit! It serves us well.