The Tofurkey Squawked During the Meal

Thanksgiving was pretty decent this year; it started wonderfully and ended with me being quite pleased to come back to P-town. So all around: a smashing time.

On Wednesday night I bolted from work and caught 6 different trains in 4 hours to make it home by 9:30, whereupon my mother materialized like a ghost in her nightgown, pointed to a fabulous dinner on the table, said goodnight, and retired back to bed. Nuts, the family is nuts.

But I truly felt like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz. When my dad drove my sister and I home from our tiny train station, I saw all the old trees, the postboxes, the wonderful big Connecticut homes lit with candle clusters, and felt very very glad. In a totally unexpected way. I’m usually very opposed to returning to the parental abode, but I genuinely felt like the pines along the driveway, my books (!), and even my rose-patterned bedroom were chorusing a welcome. I sifted through my poetry books, re-read my favorite sections of Possession, and slept like a child. When I woke, I heard my family loudly debating downstairs about everything from estate planning to Turkish carpets and the next election. It was amazing. Snow had quietly fallen the night before, and I regressed into my sixteen-year-old self and surreptitiously ate little shavings of ice on my balcony. The landscape was stratified into layers of fresh snow, mulch, and glorious green pine. I live in Princeton, certainly not the least tree-laden environment, but there’s nothing quite like admiring your own backyard.

Anyway, I can’t stand thanksgiving shopping. After ten hours I had a new coat, shoes, sweaters, and...tragedy...a pair of trousers. My sister muscled me into the store and bought them, so there was no chance to put up a fight. Brawn and cash: an unbeatable combination.

Being home reminded me of how much I loved winter break last year when I was back here, slowly burying myself in Austen studies. Before leaving this morning, I looked through all my books – in my room, my parents’ bedroom, my sister’s bedroom, the basement, etc, and saw all of them collected together like old, brave comrades. Maybe I miss academia and should head back soon. I definitely felt tinges of warmth and nostalgia for all those weird winter days when I drank tea and ate piles of clementines, getting more and more absorbed in my thesis. You can't hibernate in the real world, it would seem.