It is slightly embarrassing to admit, but I am deeply jealous these days of a flannel sheet.
One of the buraco ladies gave me an old flannel sheet so the Mad Kitten could make nest with it. And I sort of brushed it off. Why, MK only wants to sleep with me. Even if she starts out sleeping someplace else, I always wake up with her tucked under my arm and purring madly to wake me up.
So I carried the sheet home in its little bag and didn’t take it out for a few days. When I did, I unceremoniously dumped it on the floor, not even thinking about it because I was intent on using the bag for a craft bit of procrastination.
The Mad Kitten immediately prostrated herself over the sheet like the Blarney Stone had risen out of the floor.
She has been on it ever since.
I dug up another one and made her a nest on top of the counter. Now she can nest on her flannel but she can watch me sleep and work. Which is what she does. She has not deigned to curl up with me for over a week and I am….jealous of the f—ing sheet. Not only am I not having my morning lovefest with her but I have, horrors, had to to start using an alarm clock because she no longer wakes me up every morning.
I do not get along well with alarm clocks. I am just now reclaiming the ability to wake up 30 seconds before they go off. I had one once that was beautiful. It used a series of chimes that started at a level you could barely hear and then gradually increased in volume. It was an amazing way to wake up.
I started the thanksgiving process last night. Last year I had none. This year, I have five dinners. Last night was the first.
It really struck me what thanksgiving has become. We make a lot of noise about it being the start of the consumer season, we rail against its historical concepts; yet, last night, given the company that it was given in, I got a chance to recognize that in its contemporary form it is becoming America’s only cross class and cross cultural ritual of hospitality.
As such it has a long way to go, but as such it has the capacity to not only heal historical harm but also to become the foundation for a new sense of shared culture. It is both an atoning offer, that we invite strangers or those without to our tables or make sure that they have a table to go to and, a communal sharing of the experience of knowing or getting to know each other.
Last night’s dinner was void of grace and pilgrims and all that and the focus of the meal was on the act of sharing what we could, even if that was only our company in a more intimate way, in recognition that we had all came together, and come together on a regular basis, for a purpose larger then our lives and that recognizes that our family is also in our communities and not just to those we hold close because of blood or history.
This year, I won’t be railing against what thanksgiving has been. I am going to be supporting what it is trying to evolve into being. The only way to atone for things from the past is to amend the actions of the future. There is no words of apology that have that healing power, although the words must be said and must be genuine. But they must hold the genuine promise of amendment of life. The final and empathic expression that what was done shall never be again and this day of all days, in our lives, our culture and our country will remembrance, atonement and renewal to remind us of what we wish to bring to this life.
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c.2010. Cassandra Tribe. All Rights Reserved.