Thanksgiving

Ouch.

My heart is being pulled in too many directions, none of them good.

Thanksgiving 2021

Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. My husband and I are already dressed in our cozy sweaters, sinking into the sofa of my in-laws’ house. We are each holding giant mugs of coffee. The house smells like a lovely combination of vanilla Coffee-mate, stuffing, and pumpkin pie. If I could bottle any scent and turn it into a candle, it would be this one.

PJ is two. We are trying to get him interested in the parade by constantly reminding him that Santa is coming. He is more interested in the toy cars his uncle pulled out for him. The house is full of noise: laughter, pots and pans banging in the kitchen, the doorbell ringing on and off as more guests arrive.

When we first got married and decided his family would get Thanksgiving, I was so sad to be away from my own immediate family. Five years later, I cannot imagine anything else. I love being here. I love the cranberry jello his mom makes. I love Nana’s homemade mashed potatoes. I love playing card games with my husband’s brothers and my sister-in-law once the meal is through and the pie has been eaten. This feels comfortable. This feels normal. This feels like home. I know what I am thankful for this year.

As I am writing this, I want to move on to Thanksgiving 2022… but let me just sit here for another minute. Let me close my eyes. See it all. My father-in-law making jokes about rutabaga, my mother-in-law pouring tea, my brothers… MY brothers debating what Christmas movie we should watch, my sister-in-law sitting on the couch playing with PJ. Nana’s laugh. Nana. She was so kind. My husband placing his hand lightly on my shoulder and asking if I need anything to drink from the kitchen.

Yeah, let me just stay for one more second. Just one more.

Thanksgiving 2022

I’ve always liked playing pretend. I can do this.

He slept on the floor.

“Don’t be silly. We are technically still married, just get in the bed,” I whisper.

“I can’t,” he whispers back as he grabs a blanket and a pillow and sets up camp for the night on the carpet next to the bed.

“She’s seriously going to care? I’m still your wife. We have decided we are getting divorced. It’s happening. What’s the big deal if you sleep in the same bed with me for one night? People sleep next to their friends and siblings all the time and …” I beg.

“Goodnight, Amber.”

The next morning I’m not sure how to feel. I slept alone at my in-laws’ house, silent tears sticking to my cheeks. It’s official. We decided we are getting divorced. We decided we wouldn’t tell our families until the holidays were over. It felt like the right thing to do. To each other, we are done. To the rest of the world, we are happily married.

We can do this. We just have to pretend.

My husband goes downstairs and leaves me to get ready. I always liked dressing up for holidays. I throw on a plaid mini skirt and tights. I decide to put on red lipstick because it feels festive. The skirt looks like it may slide off of me. My under-eyes look hollow. I stare at my reflection. I haven’t been eating much. I haven’t been sleeping much either. I take a few selfies to try and boost my confidence and sigh.

It was time to face my family… his family? Or still mine? I’m not sure. Either way, let’s put on a show.

My husband greets me with a warm smile and a large mug of coffee, vanilla creamer. We go sit on the sofa next to each other. My legs are draped over his. PJ is into the parade this year. He is running around the living room pretending to be a turkey float. My husband and I are giggling and taking videos of him. The perfect family. The perfect couple.

I notice a text pop up on his phone. My stomach turns. I excuse myself and run back upstairs to the guest room. My breathing comes more rapidly. I might have a panic attack. Get it together, Amber. I sit on the floor with my back against the bed, holding my knees to my chest.

You can do this. It’s not like there isn’t a boy you're thinking of texting too.

After too much time has passed, my husband comes up to find me.

“We have to tell them. I can’t do this. You’re texting her right next to me on the couch. I can’t do this. Please, we have to tell them.” I beg… again.

“Okay. After Thanksgiving.” He places his hand on my shoulder and gives it a small squeeze.

We make it through the meal. This time he sleeps in the bed beside me. I will take pity tonight if it turns into comfort.

We tell our families the next day.

I’m thankful for the truth.

Thanksgiving 2023

The last time.

His mom invites me to Thanksgiving. He invites me to Thanksgiving. I’m not sure if I should go, but when we filled out the paperwork, we decided he gets Thanksgiving with PJ. This may be my last chance to be with my son on this holiday. That settles that. I’m going.

It’s a nice day. PJ is happy to have his family together. The large mugs are full of the vanilla-flavored coffee. The house is still full of laughter. We still drink tea and play board games. It’s different, but still comfortable. It’s still Thanksgiving.

My ex-husband and I promised each other that this is what our divorce would look like. We can still do things together. We can still spend time with each other’s friends and families. We are doing it. We are actually doing it.

I’m thankful that we can still be friends.

Thanksgiving 2024

I wake up next to PJ. We don’t have much time before I have to pack his bag and bring him to his dad’s. I wish he could stay with me for the parade.

I pour myself a cup of coffee. No vanilla creamer. I always liked getting dressed up for the holidays. I’m not sure if my ex wants PJ to be dressed up or if he’s already picked out an outfit for him. I put him in a cute sweater and khakis just in case.

I dress myself in a beige skirt, with a black turtleneck and tights. Red lipstick. Some things never change. I put my phone on a timer and take a few pictures with PJ. At least I got to see him on Thanksgiving morning. He’s crying when I drop him off. Secretly, I am too.

Okay, regroup. You have to go pick up Book Boyfriend. He has FINALLY agreed to meet your family. This is a huge step forward in our relationship. I’m scared, but excited too. I pull up to the house. He looks so handsome. He smells amazing as always and is wearing an olive green sweater.

He asks for the 100th time, “Are you sure you want me to go?” This man is nervous.

“Get in the car,” I say.

The evening is great. He does a wonderful job talking to everyone. My niece gives him a tour of my mom's house. My mom greets him with hugs. He has a personalized tag for his wine glass. We have to go in a circle and say what we are thankful for at the table. He says me.

Later he tells me that he enjoyed watching me interact with my family. He said that I spent the entire time being "witty and adorable." We end Thanksgiving with pecan pie and a Christmas movie on the couch. Maybe starting new traditions wasn’t so bad after all.

But that was before I knew… no. Stay here. For one more minute.

I’m thankful for finding love again.

Thanksgiving 2025

There’s no vanilla coffee.

There’s no PJ.

There’s no Book Boyfriend.

I’m thankful that this day will be over soon.