Heading Home

I'm on a train bound for Connecticut, as excited as I've ever been to get back to the people I love. 

Or maybe even more. Living below the Mason-Dixon Line means I only get to head back to New England every couple months, which means that when I do, it's the cause of much rejoicing. 

Tonight I'm celebrating with a g&t with extra lime and some hummus and pita chips. 

"What more do you need?" the man working the cafe car quipped after he carded me. I told him I like anybody who cards me, and he told me that he has shoes older than me. "You're holding up well," he grinned. Better than his old shoes? I wondered, but decided he meant it as a compliment. So I'm celebrating that too.

I think back to a favorite line from Spanglish -- "I think I'd inject the gin, if I had the equipment" -- as I make my way back through the clanging train cars and climb into my seat. I'm mostly kidding, but I feel hungover from some drama with those friends I recently wrote about. It's Thanksgiving Week, though, so I am doing my damndest to focus on everything I have to be grateful for.

I know that sounds canned, but let me tell you: I miss my family, man. 

The more time that goes by, the more I realize I have a really good one.

I have a mom who stayed on the phone with me for an hour last night as I sobbed about my friends. Who spent her Sunday making banana bread for our annual Turkey Day feast. And who lives for these next few days, when, as she says, "all of her chicks are in the nest."

I have a dad who will meet me at the station tonight with a smile on his face even though the train is an hour and a half late. Who'll probably pour me a second glass of gin, and stay up to chat in spite of the fact that he got up at 4:30 for work this morning -- and in spite of the fact that I'm 30 years old, and he has repeated this Homecoming Ritual many, many times. 

I have a beautiful, human sparkler of a sister who I'll get to hug tomorrow for the first time since June when she rolls in to oversee the production of the chocolate banana cream, apple, and pumpkin pies.

I have a brother who will bring his wife and three-month-old daughter home to us tomorrow night. God willing, I'll get to scoop that baby up and hold her tiny body tightly in my arms. 

The next day I'll see relatives I've seen at holidays and parties and picnics my entire life. 

We'll eat sausage stuffing and mashed potatoes and celery with cream cheese. 

There'll be Half and Half in the fridge for Aunt Bev's coffee; Cranberry Bog Bars laid out in the Living Room for Dad; Creamed Corn simmering on the stove for me. And all. that. pie.

We'll knit and take our annual walk and play Screw Your Neighbor -- a nod to our Cincinnati roots-- into the night. 

Gobs of food, babies, and hours of Hillbilly games. 

Look at that list and tell me I don't live a blessed life. 

I hope that everyone reading this post can take a moment to think about the good things in your life right now too. 

We may not have everything we once did. We may have had to let some things go. But this week let's let what we've lost bring more sharply into focus all that surrounds us now. Let's hold it tightly while we can. 

Happy holiday, my friends.