Saying grace.

My Thanksgiving Day completely transcended my already insanely high expectations of it. Sure, I didn't glutton myself or park on the couch to watch two football games I could've predicted the outcome of, but I saw Twilight (finally) and talked to my cousin Yvonne, whom I hadn't seen in nearly two years!

It seemed as if almost everything significant in her life had happened in just that short period of time. However, after a bit of conversation, I realized that I didn't really care for her at all before she left. Still, I was remarkably impressed by how greatly we had both changed since then. It wasn't like meeting a stranger; The pretense of family quickly buried any awkward greetings. Yet, it was hard to believe she had belonged to this family, my family, for fifteen years and I'd just begun to know her. I wondered what I'd been busy with during the childhood I had shared with my cousins because I didn't have anything to show for it, but I let my inner turmoil go unspoken. Without a word, I was forgiven.

After showcasing to her a few crude sketches I'd finished on the drive up to her house in Sacramento, we wandered off to the local creek. Now, I wouldn't say her neighborhood was entirely hidden from the rest of the city; There were a few kids riding bikes or scooters, working on cars, shooting pool in their garage, or shooting hoops into portable baskets held by sand or water. But when we got to the creek, not a soul could be found. Only a railroad suggested civilization but Yvonne told me that it hadn't been used in years, that it was abandoned just like this old farm shed that seemed to stare at you so intently that you felt it bore through your forehead. Yvonne occupied the space between the shed and I, blurring my vision, and I noticed I was staring. Then and there, I was certain of a creator and I suspected it had designed the shed, the railroad, the grass, the creek, the rocks in the creek, all to produce a resounding sense of panic and distrust. We agreed that neither of us would want to stick around at night, that it would be a cool spot for a horror movie later and an even better spot for spontaneous photos now. We gathered some photo-evidence and, after a quick game of "let's see who can throw a rock the furthest down this railroad" and a classic spitting contest (distance obviously), headed back to her house.

As always, a complication is what keeps a story moving forward. If the evening went by as planned, Yvonne and I would have promptly boarded her minivan, drove on to the theater nearby, and relish the directorial wizardry of a certain film involving vampires, humans, shiny, silver Volvo's, rainy beaches, sprawling meadows, and romance, romance, romance. Time complicated this simple plan. We had plenty of it before we started trying to figure out how we would all be returning home and she had asked to go, before we went to the creek and she had asked to go, and even while we were planning the entire day a week before and she had asked if she could treat me to a movie, sort of like a gift because she wouldn't see me on my birthday. But, then it was our faulty planning skills that prevented us from seeing the dream realized. So my mom and I made a compromise: we could still see the movie, but, I would not have time to be background scenery at another cousin's party, I would have to leave as soon as the movie was finished, and I had to pay back something to every one of my cousins who didn't get to tag along. I had no trouble missing the other party, we watched the movie until after the credits were done rolling, and as for my cousins, they're all about seven or eight years old and would get the same joy out of a blockbuster as they would get from a tootsie pop. So I was out seven dollars, assuming they haven't already forgotten something that they were only associatively involved with...

And after the smoke faded, everyone was satisfied. My sister made it to her job on time with thanks to the traffic being so light, my parents made it to a Black Friday sale at The Great Mall in Milpitas with thanks to coffee, and I enjoyed probably the most exciting Thanksgiving I'd ever had. No complaints.