Thanksgiving, of course — it's become a sort of holiday tradition for me — and I'll do likewise on Christmas. Just being candid here, but there is no reason for me to take those days off and pretend to make happy happy joy joy. My parents are dead, my brothers have their own families and live across the state, and I'm not going to sit in the apartment by myself. Better that I be at work with people I know and (mostly) like, you know?
I am thankful for this.
Malibu and I wandered up to the staff lunch the other day, the first one I'd been to in months. I'm generally riding the desk and someone has to listen to the scanners. I also try to avoid staff gatherings so I don't run into people who'd rather forget I ever existed, or that they ever knew me. See? I can be thoughtful when I want to be.
But this time I figured, hey, it's a Thanksgiving staff lunch, there'll be turkey, and the odds of me bumping into any ghosts are slim, very slim. And I ain't afraid of no ghost. You can guess what happened.
Boo, I whispered to myself at the ghost, who kept her back to me. Seems we are both thoughtful these days.
What did I want to say? It doesn't matter. These days I keep my feelings locked up, jammed into a too-small box and shoved onto a high shelf inside my head. If I ignore them long enough they eventually quit screaming, and they stay quiet until it's time to go to sleep. Then they can run free and romp all they want. I don't mind. Sleep is highly overrated.