Indian Thanksgiving

Obviously, the move to India has not been an unqualified success. I have had a lot to grumble and complain about. The oddities of the school, the white person tax, the constant need for patience.

And, of course, my wife’s six week absence due to visa paperwork has permanently colored the entire country in a negative hue. Co-dependent that I am, I can barely stand to be away from Merideth for one day, much less six weeks.

And tomorrow, on Thanksgiving, I will spend the day teaching, and grading, and, hopefully, contacting the ones I love for just a moment to wish them well.

But, Thanksgiving is Thanksgiving, and forced though it may be, I do have some things I am grateful for:

My kids: These two people are awesome. There are not many small ones who could handle the bizarre requests we make of them on a regular basis. They are smart, and funny, and independent. They love easily and they feel deeply. No child could be better suited to me than these two wonders. They are travelers, and adventurers, and explorers. And adorable to boot.

Facebook: I would have gone insane long ago were it not for my ability to stay in touch with friendly faces, however tenuously, through Facebook. It gives me the illusion of contact. I have many nights stayed up, watching the updates roll in, and felt a tiny bit closer to home.

Skype: There are a few people I speak to almost daily. They are dear, dear friends. And my fear of being forgotten is countered by the digital love they send down the interwebs.

Friends: I have many. I used to have so very few. It is a constant wonder to me, and I am very, very thankful.

Limca: A lemon soda sold in India. It is delicious, cheap, and cold. And as bad for me as Coke, without the cultural baggage.

Sidarji’s: My grocer delivers food to my house after I call in an order. It saves me so much time and energy.

Manmohan Singh: The Sikh taxi driver who tells fabulous stories about fighting leopards with his turban.

Monkeys: Evil, but more fun to watch than any other wildlife in the world.

Crowley: Our black cat. Who just scratched me, as if to remind me he had better be on this list.

The views.

The Himalayas.

The gorgeous moon.

My wife.

So, I begin this year’s Thanksgiving (or lack of it), being thankful for what I have, and longing for it to be closer to me.

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About the Author

I moved to India. I mean, why the hell not, right?