The Four Chambers of a Home

Thanksgiving is, perhaps, my favorite holiday of the year. And I love holidays! I love pretty much everything about them.

I love the mixed bag of gifts that is a family get-togethers. The uncouth cousins. The mothers who try too hard. The dad's who don't try at all. The uncles that get drunk. The tee-totaling aunts who try to make up for the drunkeness by being completely lacking in a sense of humor.

I honestly love it all.

Holidays are really important to me. They're the spice in the meat and potatoes of the year. They are the moments in our grinds where we stop and, for whatever reason, we take time to appreciate that which means most to us. Family. The reasons we work and grind and push and pull.

In the last 5 years, I've spent Thanksgiving in five different places. Five different families other than the one that raised me. Five different sets of drunk cousins and stuck-up brothers and crazy aunts and accommodating mothers and incontinent elderly family dogs, hovering with graying whiskers for the next piece of turkey or stuffing to fall from an overloaded plate to the floor.

Families are very sacred and real and utterly unchangeable (no matter how hard you try) type of things. So when a friend is willing to share that with someone else... its much like exposing yourself (unfortunate wording, but I liked it so much after I typed it I just kept it... you know what I meant anyway). You can't really lie about family. "Uncle Ted isn't a drunk, he's just had a stroke recently." Or "My cousin Andee isn't a bitch, she's just getting into character for a movie part... she's playing the lead in a sequel of 'Mommy Dearest'... no really!"

Like I said, these lies don't really work. And to be honest, we're usually so consigned to the ugly truths about it, that we don't even think to warn our friends. So when someone is willing to share that with you, expose their origins and lay their lives bare, it means a lot. And the fact that I've had 4 friends think highly enough of me share themselves like that... it means that either I'm doing something really right, I'm just REALLY pitiful.

I suspect its a little of column A and column B.

It hits me when I think about that. 5 years since I've had Thanksgiving at my Grandma's in Hamilton, Illinois. My back to the big picture window with a view of the Mississippi winding through the bluffs with Iowa beyond. I haven't enjoyed my favorite holiday with the family that made me love the day the most. I remember flying kites and having experiments with my Aunt Theresa and her friend, Jim... (and never wondering about them having one of the inexplicable and androgynous relationships I've ever seen).

It causes me to pause my typing mid-word to think about it.

I've been at the mercy of others for the last 5 years. I've been floating around for the last 5 years... maybe this explains a lot about me and where I am in life. I'm so desperate to put down roots. I had an amazing support system in Eric and Steve and Shiznit in Waco. Myles and my studies.

I'm really beginning to love and appreciate Galveston. I fought it. Then I gave in... and then I had to work at it. But my relationship with Galveston Island is strong. I have an amazing job with an even better group of co-workers and a boss that has become a dear friend and confidant. I have good friends in Brian and Kristen and Will. I'm getting to a place where I'm happy with my situation. Even after the fucking storm.

I had a really good time time this Thanksgiving with Amanda and her family. Her mother, Melinda is sweet as the day is long and bent over backwards to make me feel welcome. She tried her hardest to embarrass Amanda for Amanda's sake. Turns out Amanda was too big a wuss to really misbehave growing up. Amanda's father, Barry, is incredibly laid-back. Seriously an incredibly accommodating and guy. He's done as much to make me feel comfortable as anyone. I got to meet Amanda's brother, Tyler and his wife Shari. Really cool young couple. I'm guessing they've been married 2-3 years. They have a beautiful son, 10 month old Kane. Seriously, two of the biggest, most lovable brown eyes I've ever seen. And I'm a sucker for the eyes.

And Amanda. She was a pro about the whole thing. I'm not sure if she actually wanted me around but she was cool as hell. As she almost always is.

I'm really thankful for her influence in my life. She's more than my best friend. She's sort of a lifeline into the world at outside of mine. She's smart and strong and while I think we share a sense of humor, I don't know anyone who provides a better counter-point to my point of view of the world. She's really fun to hang out with. And I defy you to spend time with her without laughing.

Besides that, she's off-the-charts hot. That don't hurt none. Like I've said. I never punch my weight.

But back to the point. I talk all this mean game about how much I love it back home, but I know that if I were to go back, I would hardly be able to spend a week without wondering why I would ever bother stepping foot in the city's limits. And even so, I've only just gotten to the point where I'm interested in seeing anyone besides my family members when I do go back.

I guess what I'm saying is that home is where the four chambers of your heart is. Wherever my mom and dad live will be home. Whether that's in Illinois or El Paso or wherever they're talking about moving.

Wherever I can go and say my stupid jokes and get laughs and people telling me I'm not nearly as funny as I think I am, will be home. (so thanks, Amanda)

Wherever I can go and feel loved, and just as importantly, known, will always be home.

So home is where my heart is. And as long as it's with those who would hold a piece of it, maybe I don't need to worry so much about roots. I'm leaving cuttings of myself wherever I go!

Four chambers of a home. A heart indeed.