Rain, Lint & Thanksgiving

I am not sure what to write to you right now, I am not sure that you exist and therefore I feel in some ways my indecision about content is wasted. Most times I take great comfort in writing into the internet's abyss today, however I crave a responsive smile, good coffee and a solid embrace.

Perhaps I should put my mood in context, I am in BC. It is raining. It always seems to be raining - which I like. I have jazz music playing, which I also like. In front of me is a creamy cup of hot chocolate, ok a now empty cup, also something I like... and I find myself staring into nothing, watching lint floating from nowhere to nowhere, wondering how much of that lint falls upon me without my consent.

Today is Thanksgiving Sunday - the day of my family's celebration. Today is the day where my sister and I would usually find a quiet moment of indigestion and slip off in a beat up truck. She would drive like a maniac through stubble fields, windows rolled down and heater cranked up because I can't handle the cold. I will have stolen my brother's favourite jean quilt, which always upsets him. I would be wrapped in that quilt, sitting beside my little sister as she whips us through golden fields which now resemble a military haircut, because harvest is finished and the long stalks of grain have be taken. I would lean back, flip through my journal, twirl my pen and imagine what words I might transfer from my brain to those pages.

We would return, much to Gramma's relief, alive....completely wind blown, I would sneak some extra sugar to my entertainingly rowdy little cousins and sit and have a good cup of my mom's coffee. Letting family chat swirl around me, smelling harvest on my own skin and still considering the string of words that I never did write down....my sister would anxiously flounce about- while my father, brother and I would make a concentrated effort to get a rise out of Gramma. My aunt would laugh loudly and my uncle would smile quietly taking in the sound of her voice. My tiny sister in law would eat more food than humanly possible arming everyone with jokes about how someone so small could consume so much and never gain an ounce. My great aunt and uncle would quietly take in the expressions of their family because their hearing has long since left them and I would enjoy dancing about the kitchen with and around my mom - refilling wine glasses and coffee cups. The house would be hot, but few would notice...and I would soak in Thanksgiving.

I am not complaining. I am not even terribly sad. I am seeing the present and the past in one glance. I can smell wheat fields and yet when I look out my window I see streaks of Abbotsford rain. Perhaps I am looking into the future and accepting it will be filled with vivid memories combined with foreign sights and sounds...I don't necessarily need to have the past in my present. What do I need?

hmmmm, like I said a smile, a coffee and an embrace...