You walk through the dusty well-house of your aunt whose seems to really have it together besides the alcoholism and the impending divorce you heard about when you got home and your mom unloaded unwanted gossip on your father and you just got caught in the cross fire. But you don’t care because you have been engulfing campus food for the past three months and need real food in your stomach. You go to town on the piles of mashed potatoes sitting ever so precariously on the kitchen counter, and boy, is it all so delicious.
After piling your plate with a comfortable serving from every container, you plop down right next to your uncle you haven’t seen for about a year. He works in finance downtown and is always dressed in the best suits around, even on Thanksgiving, which makes it seem like he tries just a little too hard.
He asks you about school, the typical questions: major, how are the classes, professors, so on and so forth till you run out of things to say and the small talk gets dull. He starts to subtly talk about politics, and you slowly start to die inside. You’re just waiting for the big one to come across home plate.
“…and that’s why Donald Trump would make a great president!”
Home run! You start to reevaluate why you haven’t seen him in a year. He doesn’t say anything racist immediately as he goes on and on about how Trump will “say the things the politicians won’t.” But you totally know he is thinking it.
The whole time, his wife is making small talk with your mom about your love life and how you just broke up with your girlfriend completely within earshot, completely without your perspective. They start to giggle, and you get self conscious. Why are they laughing? Breakups are never funny.
As you desperately attempt to lose your self and family in the food, your grandmother, who is deep in her 80s, starts to rattle about how you never call or visit her. You feel somewhat guilty, but just nod along and pretend to listen as you shovel food in. Boy, is it tasty. Grandma starts to tell you how most of her friends are long gone, and she is so lonely, and like a typical douchebag, you just nod your head and pile more turkey in your mouth.
You look across the wide white table and see your parents amicably laughing with your father’s deadbeat brother who hasn’t had a job in a few years, and whom they always complain about constantly for not pulling his weight. He lives with Grandma (so she can’t be that lonely), and which seems like punishment enough.
Finally, after all the food is gone, and enough time has passed, everyone lines up and slowly waddles to the door. You shake hands with everyone, pass around a few solid hugs, and head home. As you stare out of the dark window, while your parents drive, you know no matter how much Thanksgiving is awkward and horrible, you wouldn’t change a thing.
