I like the idea of taking a day out of the year in order to pause and give thanks for everything good in our lives. I suppose Sunday church service fulfills that function in many people's lives, which is why on many days I echo--with more than a tinge of sadness--Julian Barnes' sentiment that "I don't believe in God, but I miss him."
In the absence of Sunday service, Thanksgiving seems as good an excuse as any to assume what a recent article in The New York Times calls an attitude of gratitude, which, research shows, "has been linked to better health, sounder sleep, less anxiety and depression, higher long-term satisfaction with life and kinder behavior toward others, including romantic partners."
It is almost as satisfying as it is hilarious that science has finally given its stamp of approval to one of the fundamental principles behind all religions and spiritual movements, many of them thousands of years old: namely, a belief that human well-being depends on our ability to focus on what we do have, rather than what we don't, and our willingness to approach life with appreciation, rather than greed, dissatisfaction, envy, or resentment.
I like Thanksgiving because its emphasis on pausing and savoring the present seems slightly antithetical to the otherwise relentless American drive to push forward, do better, and acquire more. I also like that the holiday requires no giving other than the one that comes from the heart and is directed towards the people whom love the most.
Since having kids, my Thanksgivings have also felt increasingly bitter-sweet, as we celebrate in the warmth of our own sweet home, but in the absence of all extended family. When we visited one of Sava's friends late in the afternoon before Thanksgiving yesterday, I witnessed with sadness the arrival of grandmothers, nieces, nephews, boyfriends of nieces, step-fathers, etc., keeping mental count of all the family members we will not be seeing this holiday season and most holiday seasons to come.
We are lucky to have grandpa with us this year, but otherwise, now and as far in the future as I can envision, holidays like Thanksgiving, when families gather to share and bicker and celebrate, will be spent in the company of just the four of us.
And while there is exquisite beauty in being able to take our kids on a familiar quiet walk along the baylands in the morning on Thanksgiving, a part of me can't help but wonder how the absence of the cacophony that is grandparents, aunts, uncles, and cousins will some day affect the way that they relate to each other and to the world around them.
Time will tell, I guess.
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That said, here is a short list of the things for which I am most thankful on this Thanksgiving night.
1. Living in a part of the world that is just so damn beautiful.
I still find it hard to believe some days that we can drive ten minutes and end up here:
2. A husband who has more patience with me than I deserve and who works tirelessly at being a good father and a supportive partner. (He hates it when his wayward daughter takes off her shoes and socks in the middle of a "winter" day, but he tries to smile for the camera anyway.)
3. A son whose sensitive and perfectionist nature, when it does not drive me crazy, makes me want to be a better person.
Have I mentioned that he is obsessed with talking about poop and pee lately? When I kissed him at bedtime tonight and told him that I am very thankful to have a wonderful son like him, he giggled into his pillow and warbled, And I am thankful for being able to talk about body functions!
He got a much coveted gun this week, his first and only, after nagging the bejeezus out of his grandpa, who was only too happy to grant his wish. It's a wooden contraption that shoots rubber bands, and he is beside himself with joy. (Yes, we know all the objections to kids playing with guns, and no, we don't think that our son having a single gun will damage him for life. We're just happy it is not plastic and does not emit obnoxious noises.)
I'm also thankful that he has gained so much in confidence, doing stuff he never would have considered doing even a year ago.
4. A daughter who exhausts me with talk and laughter and awes me with her unstoppable drive for life.
She is funny, happy, and irreverent.
Her courage scares me witless, and I can't begin to imagine what she will be like even a year from now, as her transformations often defy time and space.
She is in turns sweet or defiant, and parenting her is one of the biggest challenges of my life so far.
5. I am also thankful for having a daily chance to achieve the dream that took root when I first came to this country as a high-school exchange student and found inspiration in a fantastic English teacher. I wanted to "grow up" to be just like her and, more than fifteen years later, I'm working on that dream.
Happy Thanksgiving, all.
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