The alarm went off at 4:30am. She had gone to bed at 1am. She couldn't figure out if she felt sick from a lack of sleep or the dehydration caused by the acne drug she was taking. She gulped down a glass of water. Smee meowed incessantly. "Quiet, Smee, you'll thank me later when I feed you later." Adventures in cat sitting. She hated cats. Smee was no exception. How could anyone love an animal who would rather sit in a cardboard box than cuddle you?
As she stepped out onto 42nd Street at 5am, she remembered a time, years ago, when she was up at a similar time on a long ago Thanksgiving day, to walk the parade as a clown. To her 11 year old self, NYC was the city where stories happened the way they happened in the movies; where Meg Ryan and Tom Hanks meet atop the Empire State Building and live happily ever after. As she walked the deserted streets of the city all those years ago, she felt a pang if what might be and what the years could bring. NYC was a symbol dreams to be chased and goals to be met. At that age, she wasn't sure exactly what those goals and dreams were, but she knew how that life felt. It felt like this: to be walking the city at 5am 2 decades later, on the way to the Shubert Theatre. She was not about to meet a young Tom Hanks atop the Empire State Building, she was about to do something even better.
It was Thanksgivikkah 2013, a year when Thanksgiving and Chanukah collided for the first and last time for thousands of years. A once in a lifetime celebration. How appropriate that she was starting the day performing on the Macy*s Thanksgiving Day Parade. She had thought that nothing could be more exciting than sitting on the stage of the Radio City Music Hall waiting to perform in 2013 Tony Awards. As she stood outside Macy*s at 7am and saw the cameras set up for their dress rehearsal, she decided that this moment was possibly more exciting. She was choked up from cold and when her emotions started to get the better of her, she felt a feeling in her chest; a physical manifestation of "thankfulness." It felt achy and full. She wanted to bottle it up so that she could forever remember it. It's a curious thing about feelings; no matter how full they are in the present, they are altered by time and memory. This "thankfulness" was something she really rather not be altered.
It was really really cold. She sat on the set with the kids, wondering how long they would be pre-set there before the broadcast began and they could dance. Anything to bring feeling back to their hands. Without warning, the parade hosts started talking about MATILDA THE MUSICAL. "Here we go," she thought. "Don't fuck up." As she danced, mucus started to run down her nose. Every inhale she took was icy cold. Her hands refused to warm up. But, the crowd cheered and clapped and she loved every second of it. When it was over, she felt exhilarated, despite the pain in her chest from the cold air. That was so much cooler than walking the parade as a clown.
When she got back to her cat sitting adventures, Smee didn't care that she had just performed live on TV for all of America, or that the first thing she needed to do was make herself a cup of Lady Grey. Her stared her down until she finally fed him. "That's cats for you," she thought. And then she sat with her cup of tea and thought some more. About how it's possible to dream something all the years of your life and then suddenly be living it. "I can do anything," she thought. And not with arrogance, but with hope and determination. She pulled out her notepad and wrote. She still preferred writing the old fashioned way, no matter how advanced technology was becoming. She wrote herself a to-do list for the next decade. A woman who does not make promises that she does not intend to keep, she then folded it up and promised herself to fulfill her list. It was then and there that the next chapter of her story was determined.
That evening, she was treated to the lighting of the menorah and a homemade feast of all the traditional Thanksgiving fare, with latkes and apple sauce to appease the Gods of Jewishness. As she sat and watched her cousin carve the turkey, she felt that none of these exciting endeavors of hers would mean anything were it not for the people in her life to share it with. Dancing on the parade was cool; watching the turkey being expertly carved in a warm home surrounded by family was just as cool.
The night drew to a close as the house emptied of guests. "I'm going to hell for gluttony," she said, as she stuffed her bag with a leftover caveman turkey leg and a kosher chocolate lollipop with a menorah on it. She stood on the train platform and felt, as Thanksgivikkah wouldn't come round again for thousands of years, that she had played her part in celebrating it aptly, for today was one for the books. "We are lucky," she thought, as she stepped out of the cold into the warmth of the heated train, "to have so much to be thankful for." As she walked the streets of NYC upon her return, she saw the familiar sight of homeless people trying to take shelter from the cold along with the unfamiliar sight of blocks of people lined up for Black Friday sales, and the lightness in her step became heavy.
When Smee pressed her for his evening meal, she fed him distractedly. It didn't feel right, having so much when others had nothing; to give thanks then go out for more before the day was even over. She added something to her to-do list. Then she went to sleep, thankful for the heat, the turkey leg in her fridge, and the comforter under which she lay with her full belly.
