Thanksgiving

This has been, perhaps, the most dreary of Thanksgivings I've encountered. The truth of it is, I have no idea why. Perhaps its that gathered around the table, there were only four of us, where there had been almost double that figure. The sky was dull and gray, and I made the terrible choice of wearing a blouse in the same sort of depressing tone. I spent an hour carefully applying makeup in golds and pinks to find my appearance in the mirror unappealing.

For the first time in my life, I've begun to see the physical evidence of age. I have several dozen gray hairs now, as well as seemingly deepening set of lines around my eyes and mouth. I tried to tell myself "its just fatigue, it'll vanish with a good nights rest" but I knew better. I never expected to feel the extent of my mortality at age 23.

Back to the dinner. The flavors were rich but didn't lift the spirits of me or my family that sat around the table. We focused, silently, at shoving in the cinnamon sweet potatoes, or sipped thirstily at the crystal wine goblets until everyone have had their fill in a span of 15 minutes. Sparce were the words between us. I had not known this feeling before. It was a sense of awkward sadness at the table.