Thanksgiving is my favorite holiday. It might have something to do with the awesome food, or the ability to seriously overeat and not face much judgment (which is important for a fat chick), or the fact that its always close to my birthday. It could also be that we don’t celebrate Christmas. But the real reason is my family.
I know I talk a lot about how crazy they (we) are, even on occasion how potentially fucked up I am because of my family. I’ve told stories about my sister getting pulled over after buying drugs, or how if you get my mom drunk enough she will explain why incest is okay in Memoirs of a Meth Family. Or about how my mom lit my neck on fire in Storytime: Medications of the Abi Somethings. I’ve written a short story about the youngest sister running away. Or about my mom hiding my sister’s drug stash to bribe her to clean the house, and delay her so that she gets free lunch.
I’ve told people stories about my mom hitting people with a rolled up newspaper for making the dog bark, I’ve held my tongue in polite company while people tell me about how wild their younger brother is for smoking pot. And the truth is we are crazy, every single one of us. We are Abi something (a joke from one of my favorite movies as a kid, young Frankenstein, and a play on my last name).
I’ve done things with normal (if there is such a thing) families, where there is awkwardness, and angst and stuff. But I wouldn’t trade all the pain and other crazy stuff that happened to me as a kid for that, ever.
My family might be functionally dysfunctional; we might drink too much, do to many drugs, or be loud, or different, or completely off the rocker. But at least we are interesting. And they give me great writing material. So I love Thanksgiving, because it is a great excuse to get together with my family, and just hang out. I am thankful for them, and all of their crap. I am thankful for the baggage they have given me, and for making me who I am as a person.
What are you thankful for?
Happy thanksgiving, and hopefully I will have some awesome stories to bring back after the holiday.
Cheers to great writing material! Half of my family showed up 4 hours after everyone else had gone HOME. Meanwhile my millionaire brother-in-law stayed at home and ate leftover McDonald's in his underwear because driving to my house was 'too far' for food. We live 10 minutes away.
ReplyDeleteEagerly awaiting your own fun stories.
I like to think being blessed with a dysfunctional family makes us very creative individuals. Most people from normal families rarely become artists etc.
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