Thursday morning I rushed around the apartment, rushed to a cab, rushed to 59th and Lex, only to wait for twenty-five minutes for the Jitney out to the North Fork. I rushed, to wait. There's something poignant in there I think.
Just under two hours later the bus pulled over to the side of Main Street in Cutchogue. In front of Scoops Ice Cream and a few doors down from the diner and the church turned library. I stepped off the bus, wished the driver a Happy Thanksgiving, and walked the half mile to my Mum's.
It was perfectly quiet and clear and cool and I found myself smiling as I walked. If I had been a character in a movie there'd have been good music, something to make sure the audience knew that this meant I was happy. That something deep inside felt calm and at ease.
I walked in the back door to hugs and the familiar high pitched, but welcoming, squeal of my mom. Aunts, uncles, cousins, and my Mum. A cacophony of family. And it was good. And I was thankful.