Thanksgiving

I just woke up. Dozed off in the back of my parents’ baby blue mini-van headed down the Jersey Turnpike on Thanksgiving Eve. I look through the darkness to see Dancer D curled up on the floor and New Roomy stretched as much as she can across the back seat. We’re tired.

Earlier today while standing on the 6 train headed uptown I heard Daddy say to Mommy, “I couldn’t do this. I couldn’t live this lifestyle.”

Yesterday I was negotiating my way through the underground hallways of the Union Square subway station during rush hour. As I looked around I noticed a homeless man sitting down begging; old people moving at their own pace consequently holding up foot traffic; and a woman carrying her stroller up two sets of stairs. I thought to myself that this city is only for the young, able-bodied, and determined. You must have at least one of these qualities to make it here, and you’re better off if you have all three.

We’ve got a few hours of driving to go on I-95 south and with my dad’s choice of Ron Isley crooning and no daylight, sleep is the natural thing for us young, able-bodied and determined dreamers in the back seat. We’re exhausted. He from dancing two shows a day, six days a week, although yesterday it was four shows. Her from working forty hours a week at a job I think she cares too much about because she continues to work on it (or at least think about it) for hours every day when she comes home… and then she works on her music. Me from spending the past few months putting in work to not only organize a show, but to organize myself into a business.

We need this ride. We need some time away from the city. We need parents to take care of us. We need some fun, a different kind than what we’re used to having. We need hugs. We need home cooked meals that we didn’t have to cook.

We’re blessed because we’ll have it all.

For that, I am thankful.