Today is a holiday that stands out among the rest, to me. Not because we have family traditions, or because I clearly remember the very last Thanksgiving I had with my mom. No, neither of these ideas have any ground. We have never really had family traditions for this holiday. None. Also, as I pondered the holiday this morning, after waking up to freshly dusted world outside, I could not bring to mind that last time I spent Thanksgiving with my mom. The more I dive into this thought, the more I wander if maybe that is part of what makes this holiday special. Let me elaborate…
Thanksgiving is a special holiday to me because it is simple. To celebrate it, in my mind, I only need three things. 1) wonderful people 2) delicious food 3) grateful energy
Over the last five years, I have spent most of my Thanksgivings outside of the country. This is part of why I cannot remember my last Thanksgiving with my mom – the only possible year it could have been was 2012.
2013 – Uganda, Africa
2014 – Duvauchelle, South Island, New Zealand
2015 – Stewart Island, South Island, New Zealand
The last two years I have spent Thanksgiving here at Kirkwood, the first one with my boys – brother, my partner and my brother’s dog. It was lovely! Last year, I do not think we really did anything. This year, who knows.
In Uganda, we went to an Ethiopian restaurant in the city of Gulu. There was a huge group of absolutely beautiful souls all around me, and we scarfed down the Ethiopian dips with our hands and injera bread, just as if we had forks and knives digging into juicy turkey with gravy. At the end, we all had smiles on our faces, and our hands on our bellies. We were on the other side of the world from our blood related families, some in our group even had wives and children back at home, but we were beyond grateful for the small group of Americans we got to spend the holiday with, as well as all of the Ugandans that invited us into their lives that week. Good people, good food, good vibes.
During my first Thanksgiving in New Zealand, I had just recently said good bye to my travel buddy and best friend, who had been with me for five weeks. My first adventures solo commenced at a lady’s home, in a town just outside of where a best friend from college was working. I helped the lady cook, clean and watch her kids, and in return, she taught me some incredible recipes, since she was a chef, and fed me and gave me a bed and a roof. My bestie from college and I had already talked about spending our American holiday today, and he had told our chef friend about it as well. The plan was this – we cook a huge feast of whatever delicious food we wanted, and the entire staff at this YMCA camp nearby was coming over for dinner. Owning the duty of pumpkin pie, I was excited to introduce a favorite holiday dessert to the kiwis and other non-Americans who grimaced at the idea of a sweet pumpkin dessert. Our chef made her famous veggie stack (and a chicken version) that is sold in the nearby cafe in town where she works. We also had homemade bread I had kneaded by hand and baked earlier in the week. In the end, our table was absolutely smothered with decadent food, and around the edges were people with bright eyes and teeth shining in the light, filled with joy and excitement. We had people from all around the world, so many I cannot even remember, and we all came together to just enjoy a meal. We even went around the table to share what we are thankful for. Top notch food, super fun people, grateful vibes.
This was the last Thanksgiving I got to talk to my mom. I do remember that. I called her the next day (because New Zealand is a day ahead) while I was eating leftover pumpkin pie and a festive alcoholic cider, next to the fire place, while staying with my college buddy at the YMCA camp. My mom and brother were with my half sister and her whole family. I remember my niece and her friend singing while my mom had me on speaker phone. It was a very happy holiday for us all.
During the second time in New Zealand, I was once again there during Thanksgiving. This time, I had accepted a role as a first mate on a sail boat off the southern tip of the South Island, on Stewart Island, with a group of teenager kids and one captain. The timing was perfect because Thanksgiving day was our very last night out on the boat, and the captain already had plans for a big feast in the bush to celebrate. After getting to know him, and the kids, a bit, that morning, I shared the details of our holiday, and how I hoped to share it with the kids a bit. Our captain was grateful that I wanted to share this special tradition with them all.
Our feast in the bush, right next to the water, included grilled cockles and muscles, fresh caught earlier that day, as well as hot dogs skewered with sticks we found on the ground, and wrapped in plain white bread, with some ketchup. It was an animalistic feast, around a campfire, in the bush, on an island, with our hands and faces messy, and nothing else to entertain us, but the glow, conversation, the need to gather more wood, and the sound of the water. No parade, no football, just nature. After we eat, our captain gathered everyone around the fire, and handed the attention to me. With all 20 or so eyes on me, lit by the crackling fire, I explained that this day was an American holiday, and I wanted to share it with them. Explaining the tradition of going around and saying what you are thankful for, they all nodded their heads, and smiled, agreeing we had to do it, without any words.
“I’m grateful Natasha shared her holiday with us,” echoed over and over again, in various ways. I smiled through the slight puddled that welled under my eyes. Tears of pride, for where I was, my first Thanksgiving without mom. On the water, in nature, in a country I loved, finding myself, healing myself, and with young kids that already looked up to me, and an older gentleman who was in tune to my internal struggles without me saying a word.
Wild food, beautiful souls, words of love.
Why do I love Thanksgiving so much? Why is it such a special holiday to me? Because it is simple. You can celebrate this holiday wherever you are in the world, with whoever is in your vicinity, as long as you have those three things. We do not need plans, we do not need to spend a lot of money, and we definitely do not need a parade with giant balloons or football. We just need each other, some food in our bellies, and peaceful thinking.
Cheers to many more incredible Thanksgivings. What was your most memorable Thanksgiving?