Perils of assimilation

If only life came with subtitles.

Wednesday, November 26, 2008


Usually, my mom's side of the family gets together for Thanksgiving at my grandparent's house. My mom is one of seven, six of whom are still living. My uncle Steve is unmarried, he lives in a group home with other people with mental handicaps. He was probably hit the hardest by Grandpa's death. He doesn't conceptualize death well. My uncle Roger is a cabdriver in Reno, he never shows up. My Aunt Mary and Uncle Casey live in Baton Rouge, they ony show up for Christmas. The rest of my family is based in Racine, so it's easy to get together for the obligatory holiday meal.

Only this year, my dad is in Oshkosh for a retreat, my mom works all day, and I'm staying in Milwaukee.

My friend Ellen from high school, who happens to live in Milwaukee, invited me over for a vegetarian meal this afternoon. Tofurkey is not that bad, but it doesn't taste anything like turkey. She sent my back with enough leftovers to last a week. Thank you, Ellen!

The first real snow occured Monday morning. Could winter depress me any more? I am certain I have Seasonal Affective Disorder. Even if I could get myself a prescription for it, I know I couldn't afford it. I've heard light therapy works, but how do you go about getting it? My room has one window, and that faces a wall. I just need some natural light so I can wake up. Otherwise, I can't get up until noon.

I got some strange flashbacks in Seattle, of past winter memories. The day Lucy came back from the salon with a bottle of cheap champagne and a bowl of fruit, and she, Anne, and I consumed the icy sweets while we watched the snowstorm.

Or when I would blow off class to go over to Lila's for tea, and she would have fresh cookies and bread ready for me.


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