November is a pretty big time of year for me, and for Alexis.
Like her, I always went to my grandparents’ house for Thanksgiving to celebrate with my mother’s side of the family. Any turkey less than 18 pounds was “just a big chicken” by my Papu’s ruling, and my sisters and I would peel potatoes with our Nana and set all the tables while my four male cousins cleaned up after. Everyone was involved in Thanksgiving, and it was great. We spent the whole week lounging around, enjoying each other’s company. It was a warm and happy space.
Then, when I got to college, I stopped wanting to go. It was great to see them, but now people were doing things like asking me what I was going to do with a fine arts degree and guilt tripping me into coming because, what with my Nana and Papu’s advancing ages and their brushes with cancer, “we didn’t know how many Thanksgivings we had left.”
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