The Penns and the Schoolers genuinely liked each other and though they knew each other only because of the marriage of their children, they gave love and support to each other like old friends. Many Thanksgivings, we would drive either from Martinsville, Virginia to Durham, North Carolina or vice versa to celebrate with both families. And if that could not be worked out, one family would travel to pay a visit to the other. I never knew that this was not the norm. They greeted each other as family and welcomed each other, as they did everyone, into their homes. As both of my parents come from large families, there were always cousins and aunts and uncles and second cousins and somehow-cousins milling about. We would play games and tell jokes, listen to old stories about slavery times and our family trees, connecting the dots of our past with the dreams of our future.
Both sides could boast of intelligent, creative, and exciting characters who made the best of what they had and "turned it into something." The importance of both family and education could not have been stressed enough and it would be a particularly proud moment to tell the grands about a new achievement or dream fulfilled. They loved hearing these stories and were so proud of us all. In our family, Thanksgiving more than Christmas brought everyone together, because it was at this time that we all travelled. We would come from everywhere to share that time together, with extended family and friends, giving thanks for all we'd achieved and accomplished that year, and feeling blessed to have wonderful people with whom to share the news.
The food was always good and abundant. Turkey, honey-baked ham, collard greens, sweet potatoes, 7-layer salad, black-eyed peas, corn bread and homemade rolls, cranberry sauce, stuffing, mashed potatoes, macaroni and cheese, cakes and pies and ice cream, Cokes in old-fashioned bottles, and wine, maybe even some corn liquor on the sly if Jessie Mae was pouring. Hearts and souls and stomachs filled, that was Thanksgivings past.
And of Thanksgiving present? My sister and brother and their families, including my brother's mother-in-law, my Godbrother and his wife and his mother and his wife's mother all came together at my parents' home in Florida to keep the tradition and maintain the bond. The table was a little more elegant, the wine was certainly improved, and the numbers were smaller, but in all, the setting and the food and the company were marvelous. Watching cousins play and fight and make up and play again. Grandma Schooler's delicious rolls made by my mother. Two hams devoured in two days. A macaroni and cheese by my sister that brought tears to the eyes. We didn't have the chance to go around the table to talk about what we were each thankful for, but a grace given at the table by my dad, with folks holding hands around the buffet of food, gave us closeness, companionship, and warmth that came from inside and not the Florida sun.
I am truly grateful for all that I have accomplished in life, daily complaints aside. For my family. For my children. For my friends. Having a sense of community, the feeling of belonging has been something I have sought in so many places and with so many people for much of my life. Being with my family, my parents, my brother and sister, my Godbrother and the families we have made brought me closer than I have ever felt before to belonging. Though the moments of peace were fleeting, they were there and I felt them. That is what makes being in Barbados so difficult for me. Though I have run from these people nearly all my life, nothing can sever the tie. And as the energy cords between us are stretched to breaking with me in isolation in Bim, I dream of home. I know it isn't a place. But I also know that for me, for my family, it isn't here.
I need a space where my roots, spiritual, emotional, physical, familial can dig deep and anchor. A place where I am reminded of all that I am thankful for and can spend less time and energy praying for release. I am thankful for my time in Barbados because it was here that I learned my own strength, found my own power, learned that I could not do it all, conquered some of my demons, and discovered that I could choose to save myself and that I would. Choose me. I chose me. And for that, there is thanks giving.
(c) Copyright 2010. City Mom in the Jungle.
