Once you move to a place that is closer to the equator, it is easy to forget how dark the winter actually is further north. Back home in New England, it’s like the peninsula installs a massive window shade that partially snaps up in the morning, thus allowing for inconvenient angles of sun for only a fair portion of the day. And then, just as you are getting used to this gradation of daylight, without ceremony the shade rolls right back down again just around the time of 4PM. Not much of a grand auld stretch but instead one that is getting close to single digits.
What’s tough is that just as soon as the sun sets, it’s like midnight for the rest of the day. At least that’s how I heard my brother described it the other afternoon while we stood in the kitchen with the overhead lights on. At around half past 5PM.
The one thing that is nice about being home right now is that there are lingering autumnal colors to sight. We haven’t yet moved into the bony-fingered skies of winter, and thus this makes for a rather pleasant lead up to the solstice. As I drive down familiar streets, the Japanese maple trees still ripple with blown-out shades of crimson leaves. An early run south on the Bike Path reveals that the trees abutting Vineyard Sound are still in a sort of color confusion. The slanting sun illuminates various shades of green, yellow, orange and red on a single tree. The effect is almost dream-like but at the same time I wonder if this is a normal thing for a tree to be doing come the end of a New England November.
Speaking of normal things, it is now Thanksgiving morning at 0830 and my dad and I are watching South Korea take on Uruguay in an early World Cup match. I’m being sarcastic about the normalcy of course, and along that line I should mention that in a few hours we are going to have a family get-together that promises to have the entire family under the same roof. I will kind of believe it when I see it, but if the day runs as expected, this occurrence is going to be about as unusual as the World Cup match that we’ve tuned in to watch.
As time moves on and the seasons keep turning over without any regard to us bipeds, it’s easy to look around and point out what we don’t perceive as normal. The all-too-early darkness, Mother Nature’s wild color palette, strange sports matches and—best of all—an incredibly rare moment of gathering in one spot on the planet. I’m not saying that we are all going to sit down for the Thanksgiving meal at the same time (because without fail, back in the Mashpee house it’s more like Wild Kingdom in terms of breaking bread together)—we won’t sit down together, but we will all be buzzing about in the same atmosphere. This is not normal, but it is certainly notable in the best of ways.
And yes indeed, it’s a rare moment that sparks gratitude.
My father right now is stuck in the now years-long Cold War with a dear and old friend of his. I don’t have the specifics, but they apparently fell out over a disagreement in political ideologies. The kind that honestly many Americans friendships face and indeed, disrupts plenty of Thanksgiving tables (maybe even ours later on today!). I have tried to talk to my dad about it, make him recognized how his friend in the ensuing years, has made multiple efforts to patch things up. But my father is still pissed off about it and refuses to budge. It makes me sad. Especially when he says, “this just has to work itself out”.
The fact that Dad and his friend are now living on these terms is so abnormal for our family. I say family because by extension of my father and the links that he forged as a younger man, his friend is now our friend. Our families have become practically family. When my father says that this chasm in their friendship has to work itself out, I can’t help but remind him that time is ticking. Seasons are gonna keep going with no slow down. You don’t know what’s going to happen, and we certainly aren’t getting any younger. Most definitely not those of us who are 85 and seem fine to let a lifetime of memories be spoiled because of politics. This should not be a normal occurrence…but I am sad to think that it is become more of a trend in recent years.
Understanding that there is little that I can actually control of my surroundings, I am opting not to push my father too much about this. Even if I think it is the dumbest disagreement in the world. Instead, I try to remain thankful for the moments I have. I keep in mind the beauty that has come before and, remind myself that there is plenty out there every day to look at. Even if Thanksgiving dinner becomes a bit of a discussion minefield (and of course it will because we are an American household)—even if it unfurls as such, I will remind myself that at least we are all together. In the same space, and hopefully talking to each other.
There’s still no score in the Uruguay-Republic of Korea game. It is now 0918 and my brother is about to come bounding down the stairs to grab his goalie gear. We’ll be heading to the rink in a bit and I’ll watch him do a pre-Thanksgiving scrimmage: that’s hockey’s version of a turkey trot. This too, is a simple hometown thing that I am thankful to be a part of. Something that is normal but also a moment that I don’t take for granted.
Here’s to a day where we look at things that are the same as well as different. Find the best parts within each and try not to let the heavier stuff weigh us down. Unless we’re talking about my Mum’s apple pie. There is nothing like it and I am thankful that I’ll be partaking in a slice or two in just a few hours. And may the best of these two soccer teams win.