The Mute Thanksgiving

I sort of can't believe that we even made the trip up here to Syracuse for Thanksgiving. I wanted to stay in bed, but Kevin--who was not yet struck down with the worst cold of the decade (at least!)--was feeling well enough to drag us all to the van, rig up the aging DVD player, and put his foot on the gas pedal, pointing us northward. I went in and out of consciouness in the back seat (we picked foster-brother-in-law Paul up in Virginia and he became the navigator), unable to distinguish between my seasonal allergies, the reaction I was having to my flu shot, the nastiest head cold I've had since childhood, the massive cold sore in my gum line (radiating pain up into all my front teeth), and the quite horrific cheese grater wound that I inflicted on myself trying to make sandwiches for the road while suffering from all the previous.

But here we are. I don't know how we have managed Boy all these days while being sick. Maybe it helped that he too was sick and we occasionally enlisted the help of homemade cough syrup to aid his sleep. Perhaps it's the ratio of kid-to-adult that is on our side in an un-child-proofed home. Or maybe it's the skeleton key that moves around the house with Boy, locking him in or out where needed (always with supervision, of course). It has worked. I have enjoyed family. And I have even socked away around 20 pages of my novel. I would be doing more now, but I am on my mother-in-law's computer in the only room in which I could hide away for some time and my own computer is in the room where I would be immediately assaulted if I entered. And check the Black Friday Ads. Again.

Happy Thanksgiving to me, I was struck with laryngitis as of yesterday and was forced to sit mute at the family dinner today. Whenever I did try to speak, everyone sort of sat with mouths agape as I emitted a sound somewhere between the wind blowing, a mouse squeeking, Beaker from the Muppets, and Rachel Ray. I stopped trying when I got tired out and Kevin kept making fun of me. I won't relate what sort of abuses I had to endure in silence, because no one meant anything by them, but I will point out that a voice is a wonderful thing, in more ways than one. To be able to be heard when you have something valuable to say, or even just to express yourself whether you have something valuable to say or not: this is a key component to the freedom which we all desire and which everyone deserves. I'm not very patriotic, and yet, thank God for America, and thank God that I am usually heard. Perhaps I should take the events of this Thanksgiving to re-evaluate the ways in which I am using (and abusing) this magnificent gift, every day. And maybe you should, too.

Happy Thanksgiving and good riddance.