Thanksgiving Day

As I write this, I sit here feeling so full, the way people feel when they say they will never eat again. I'm back at my aunt and uncle's house. The food has been put away, the trash has been taken out, and the dishes have all been washed. The two of them are sitting on different sofas in a dark living room. My uncle is on his phone; my aunt is on her tablet. You remember that I've said they can be quiet.

The big family dinner was at my Other Aunt's house. (I've mentioned her only sporadically; once I called her "Aunt C.") Her long-term boyfriend died of old age a year or two ago; now she's in this big house by herself, with her dog. (That's for half the year. The other half, she has another house in another town.) But the house is great for parties like this one, where we had twenty people spanning three generations all under one roof. 

The party went well. My cousins all acted glad to see me, though at times I wasn't sure quite why. At this point they all live in the same town. They are all part of each other's lives. I swoop in once a year for Thanksgiving and then go away again. What do I bring to the table?

This year I didn't even bring food, because I was scarcely back from Paris before it was time to come here. I didn't have time to plan or make anything. Or at any rate I didn't do it. (Opinions might differ on whether I had the time.)

I was pleased that there were no moments like the one a few years ago (see "Uninvited parenting") where I lurched unasked into parental-style behavior. The kids were energetic, and their play involved a lot of running around and squealing. But I didn't see anyone do anything dangerous. In particular, Stan—the little savage whom I wanted to bend over my knee a few years ago—seems to have learned a better mode of behavior. I don't know what he is like the other 364 days of the year, but then I really don't need to know.

In the end I got to talk for a bit with each of my cousins in turn. They asked after Son 1 and Son 2 and I told them what I know. (That is, respectively, that Son 1 is providing a home for Wife, and that Son 2 is living with Beryl and going to graduate school. I also explained that I don't hear much from them, but why would I expect to?) I told them that Marie and I just got back from Paris, and it was delightful. I asked about their lives and work, and I think I found something intelligent to say to each of them. (I hope!) So I'm not unhappy with the day. 

But somehow I feel a little disconnected from everyone here. I wish I understood why.