Spending holidays alone doesn’t make me sad or pathetic or overly lonely; a little lonely, sure, but I’m fine. Gabe is home with family, Holly is up in the mountains with family. Being new to LA, I don’t yet have a solid foundation of displaced friends-not-from-here. So, I’ve successfully filled my Thanksgiving with work, fast food, and high-quality television programming.
I’m thinking about my family, I miss them. These past two months, my mother and sister have sent me a barrage of photos of my nephew; he’s two, and already so much bigger than he was in August and I can’t believe how much he’s talking now and he’s so smart and every picture breaks my heart a little more. I feel like Auntie Sass should be there for him more than she is. I miss my dad, who tried so hard to get me to stay in San Diego at least through the holidays, before attempting to tough out the whole LA thing on my own. Maybe I should have, but the shotgun-style move here was probably the most painless way for all of us.
So I’m here, in my apartment alone. For now, I’ll suffice with thoughts of love and appreciation for the family and friends that I do have, however far away they may be. I’ve come to terms with the idea that I’m where I need to be, and part of growing up is learning to sacrifice some of the things you love most. Maybe it’s selfish - as I’ve convinced myself it is this evening - but I’m hoping, hoping it’s for the best. In the long run. Here’s to hoping.
If anybody is reading this, I hope you’re having a day filled with love. And if not, I hope you’re okay with being alone, just like I am. There’s a bottle of champagne in my fridge, and I’m not sure it’s going to make it through the night. Happy Thursday.