Thanksgiving Storms

Thanksgiving morning was bright and clear. It was cold, maybe 38°.

He slowly began to comprehend where he was, and eventually he opened his eyes to see that he was in the same room he had been before. He had spent the night driving up from College in the snowstorm. He remembered there all those things. And great times are pulling through. But there was a storm last night. The classes ended at noon time yesterday. And he promised the manager he’d work on Thanksgiving. Laying in bed, he’d realized he’d broken his promise. He knew he was breaking his promise. He knew he was breaking his promise as he was driving up in the snowstorm.

He chose the Taconic Parkway to save money. Being the sole car on the stretch of road, his tires melted away the snowy layer and carved pathways for any future cars that may come after. He wanted to get home in plenty of time for Thanksgiving.

That feeling of comfort and familiarity was what he felt in that place. Memories of Thanksgivings past flooded his mind—like the duck blinds for bird hunting, or the high school play he’d performed in. He recalled painting wooden duck decoys and going out deer hunting on Thanksgiving morning, with his father and the many brothers he had. But underlying it all was a nagging sense of betrayal: he had told his boss he would work at the Thruway rest stop on Thanksgiving Day — and yet, he had been betrayed.

As he sat in bed at 8:00 in the morning, there was a phone call. He listened to the phone ringing, his mother answering it. He couldn’t get up.

He thought fondly of all past Thanksgivings he had spent in his own room. This was a place where he felt safe, secure, and undisturbed.

The school year was a challenge. There were plenty of obstacles to overcome, and some classes he needed extra help to understand. Attending college with a learning disability is like trying to figure out a secret language; it’s as if there’s an encrypted message hidden inside him. It takes extra time and energy to simply read the Encryption first before the actual understanding can begin

He was the only one who spoke his language, so he had to look up to find the words he needed. All he knew for sure was that he had to reach some kind of safe space. Like a salmon finding its way back home, he headed towards a place of shelter and safety. In truth he was flunking out of collage and he didn’t know why , and couldn’t tell anyone and there was no time left. Fall was ending and its ends with a crash

When he descended the stairs for breakfast, she informed him that his employer had contacted her. She stated that he’d been assigned to a task known as the ‘through rough stop’ and was to have reported there today. His reaction was one of regret yet acceptance; rules were rules, and failure to comply could lead to his termination. He had now learnt this vital lesson well.

But a 19-year-old must be taught the legend cautiously. It began with the Enjuns by a man-made lake called Sacandaga. Wooden ducks were created in an old boat parked in the driveway of a house filled with the smell of wood stoves, apple pie and bells turkey seasoning, fresh first snow footsteps on freshly falling leaves, football games and ideas of understandable origin that only are to be found at home for Thanksgiving. he somehow reasoned that if he went home quickly on thanksgiving, boss wouldn’t notice, he had to do it quickly. he had to find one bright spot first, before fall was complete.