Tomorrow is Thanksgiving.
This is not news to most of you reading this but in Didcot the Christmas season is in full swing. Lights and trees are popping up, Christmas candy has been on sale since October ended, all the turkey ads are meant for December 25th, not tomorrow.
As I live and work, I read about family and friends traveling home to see family and friends and a wave of sadness washes over me. I’ll be missing Thanksgiving with my family for a second year in a row.
When service and mission work begins, there is so much excitement about all the new experiences coming up. The new people we will meet, strange food we’ll get to try, interesting words we’ll learn and more fills the thoughts. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still loving England and BMS but there’s something about being alone tomorrow that seems so depressing. Especially when I look outside and it’s almost dark.
This year, like the last, November crept up on me and all of a sudden, it’s Thanksgiving Eve (yes I know that’s not a thing but bare with me).
The hardest part of all this is that, no matter where we are, where I am, the holidays will still be celebrated, the family will still come together and eat until they can’t move, and life will continue.
The YAGM ‘honeymoon period’ is coming to a close. My Didcot house will not be filled with the smells of mom’s cassava and ginger pudding. My dad won’t be playing music loud enough to shake the neighbors. My brother won’t be laying on my floor (his second favorite part of our NJ apartment) chatting with me about random things. I won’t be up until the small hours talking none sense and playing dominoes with my massive extended family. Worst of all, I’m missing my Grandfather’s first time in the US.
Life at home goes on, as much as I want it to wait for me, it passes.