Holiday Reflection

There's something on than writing on my mind tonight. Just thought I'd throw that out there, so that you won't be disappointed later. I don't really know why you're reading this, to be honest, but I like to think it's because you either care about what I have to say, or you think that I know what I'm talking about, and that what I'm saying is useful. Those may or may not be the same things, I'm not really sure.

Let me rephrase: there will be no keen observations about the craft tonight. But wait, before you skip on to the next blog in your RSS feed or bookmark list (because I'm arrogant enough to assume that I warrant either of those things, totally true) I do have something else that I think is worth dwelling on, for a time. Are you still here? Wonderful. Let's get to it.

So, it was Thanksgiving this past week. Thanksgiving is a holiday that I've always had mixed emotions about. As a younger individual, I was mostly just ambivalent. When I became a vegetarian, the first few Thanksgivings were a source of trepidation, albeit unnecessarily so; my mom and dad made sure I wouldn't be left out in the cold when it came to food options. This past dinner was especially wonderful, although I'm not really one to talk about what I eat so I won't go into details, but it involved banana squash, cheese, something that was kind of like spinach but wasn't spinach... look, I don't know, all I know is that it was wonderful. Where was I? Oh yes.

So aside from food, Thanksgiving is about family. More specifically, it's about seeing your family. Now, don't get me wrong, I like my family well enough; you might even say I love them. I'd say that myself. I never really considered myself to be a moody teenager growing up, never felt I really went through any sort of "rebellion" period where I was all "omg, my family's so lame and I hate them, blargh." But I guess I must have, because all of my memories of Thanksgiving in years past were associated with a sort of "tolerance" rather than me actually enjoying myself. So I guess I must have gone through some sort of teenage angst thing, right?

This year, however, I felt different. I played with my cousin's kids (they're four and two, I believe. So, you know, little.) I didn't look for a way to make a snide political comment. I had a good time even though I knew it wasn't really about me, that the attention would go to the little ones because when you're four and two, everything you do is either adorable, or if not adorable, certainly attention-grabbing.

It's weird: I felt like an adult, which isn't something I'm used to feeling when I'm with my family. I don't know what it is, what changed about me, why I'm suddenly this different person who had a great time, who enjoyed doing "uncle" stuff (even though I'm technically a second cousin). All I know is that two years ago, I couldn't stand being around kids, didn't know how to talk to them, and now it's just... so very different.

I guess the reason why I felt compelled to write about is because I think it's a rare thing, that we see in any tangible way how our attitudes, thoughts and opinions shift as we grow older, as we mature and move further and further away from childish things. I know that I'm not the same person I was five years ago, not really, and that I'm even a different person now compared to who I was a year ago, but even when that change happens quickly, even when it happens overnight, I don't think we often have a chance to realize it the way I did on Thursday.

Thursday was a Thanksgiving dinner very much like the one last year, and the one the year before that, but for some reason, this year I felt like I really was received by my family and really felt as though I had come into my own as an adult in their eyes, and maybe even my own.