Yesterday is a little bit difficult for me to explain. I had plenty of Thanksgiving “invites,” plenty of places I could have gone for the holiday to fill my stomach up with turkey, dressing and a bunch of other stuff I shouldn’t eat (I’m a diabetic don’t you know), but I didn’t go anywhere. My big plan for the holiday, the one I was looking forward to, was simple to stay home.
In thinking back to last Thanksgiving, after having dinner with my son, I started that novel that I took notes on all spring and summer. Yesterday, I worked on it some more. A year later, “The Hurricane Café,” is still very much a work-in-progress but I’m pleased with what I’ve done so far and still like most of the words I’ve written. I’m giving myself three years to get this thing done and I’m ahead of schedule.
This year’s Thanksgiving dinner consisted of a salad with some crab meat tossed on top. I had a turkey sandwich for lunch on Wednesday.
After my salad, I took a walk down Ludlow Avenue. Keller’s was open and I went in and picked up some cat food and a can of peas. When I got my back home, I took a nap.
I worked on the novel some more in the afternoon, did a little reading and talked to my son after he got back home from his mother’s. That’s about all the talking I had to do yesterday and it felt just fine.
All this week, I’ve been out of sorts – people in my face wanting me to listen to what they have to say – whether it was listening to their problems, their ideas, their questions, or just talk. Yesterday, I didn’t want to talk. Yesterday was my day of solitude – a little Thanksgiving Day gift to myself.
It was a damn fine day.