Turkey Day?

Thanksgiving is a weird time for me for numerous reasons. This year it is awkward because it is almost the teaser before the end of the semester. Instead of being able to lay on my mother's couch after eating too much food, I'll be tearing through several books that I need to read to be able to write my many, many papers that are due in merely two weeks.

Beyond that, I'm pretty sure that Thanksgiving is a holiday that I disagree with on a number of human rights and animal rights issues. Luckily, I've been a vegetarian long enough now that people have stopped asking me in absolute disbelief about what I'll eat for the hedonistic holiday.

And even further than that, I have some pretty horrible memories attached to Thanksgiving. Thanksgiving is the time in Boone in Cabin #4 with my family and an old friend. And Thanksgiving always reminds me of the last time I saw my dad. Most of you probably know that my dad passed away on December 1, 2000. We didn't have the best relationship and years had passed since I had seen him- when I received "the call." He had been living with MS for several years and it had finally beat him. I got the call with the old cliched narrative, "He's asking for you."

So, on the Monday after Thanksgiving, my mom and I got into a car and drove to see him. The whole trip down I kept thinking about my carefree Thanksgiving. How I was eating with my family, laughing and talking- never realizing what was waiting for me at the end of the weekend. What I always remember the most about the trip was my mom and I listening to an album by The Good Life. In particular, this song always resonates about that time.

A Golden Exit

I can see the chill in the air between us.
I can feel the winter coming, we're frozen in our stares.
And we know there's a world outside of these insults and injuries.
Maybe we're just too, afraid to be one.
The autumn sets a golden exit, the winter is waxing.
The cold sun will shed no more warmth into our living rooms.
Where we dream our dreams, where we wait for sleep.
Maybe we'll wake up with golden wings,
and fly over the city screaming, take me.

I woke up this morning to the silence of falling snow.
These graces of beauty have left me so cold.
I once had a heart, but hearts are like snowflakes,
and snowflakes, one warm touch and they melt away.
Maybe we'll get wings. Maybe anything.
Just anything to set us free. Maybe we'll wake up.
A golden exit.
Must we always wait for sleep?