a thanksgiving letter

Dear friends,

I know — it’s a strange way to start a blog post, as if it were a letter — but I’ve recently enjoyed missives from friends that begin this way. My friend Giyen shared intimate newsletters with thoughts from her life, and while I’m clearly one of many subscribers, it feels like she’s writing just to me. Similarly, my friend Demetria, who has relocated to Ghana, shares posts masquerading as letters to her mom on her Instagram feed — and, again, it feels wildly intimate, like she’s letting us in on a private conversation. So I’m experimenting with doing so here, to see if it feels either weird or connecting. You’ll have to tell me what you think.

Today is my first day off for Thanksgiving week, and for the first time in what seems ages, I’m planning to take the whole week off. In fact, I worked all weekend long to get my second round of edits for Radiant Rebellion in, just so I could have nothing to do for the rest of the week. The truth is that I feel a bit disoriented — like, who am I if I’m not working? — and that can’t be healthy. But I have a stack of books that I keep buying but fail to read, so my goal is to sit down and make a good dent in it. I’m going to try to break a sweat relaxing, is what I’m saying.

Alex is scheduled to come home for the holiday very late tomorrow night. Even though she was here just two weeks ago (to vote, although her candidate didn’t win, dammit), it still feels like she’s been gone a long time, and the visit home for Thanksgiving will be too short. It’s strange, this transition to being the parent of an adult instead of a kid. Those eighteen years flew by, but it seems like I’m entering into new territory — the parent-to-an-adult thing — that’s going to last, well, the rest of my life. Folks don’t really talk about this phase of parenting (well, my friend Asha does — really, really well — but no one else). It’s such an interesting time.

Anyway, this first-day-of-a-holiday-week-off-with-my-entire-little-family-back-together-again is rainy and cold (highs in the 40s, which I get isn’t particularly cold for many of you, but here in Houston it feels like the dead of winter). I like it, though: the gloom encourages snuggling under blankets and lighting fires in fireplaces. It’s funny that even though I’ve lived in America for most of my life at this point, fireplaces still feel like a novelty. It’s the only thing about America that I truly miss when I’m back in Trinidad: give me a glow of firelight and a small group of close friends and family any day, man. I remember back when we visited Bermuda, a lot of the homes had fireplaces, which makes me think that Bermuda, with its Caribbean vibe but cozy living rooms, might be the ideal place to live.

But enough rambling. Wishing you a wonderful Thanksgiving, my friends, filled with love and connection and gratitude. The holiday season is upon us. May yours be full of light.