[Being the introduction of the post, this is the part where I hook ya in with a weird little story]
It wasn’t the wrong side of the bed, but I was turned upside down relative to how I remembered falling asleep. Maybe it was something to do with the two fried spamwiches I had pushed down my throat before becoming comatose, but I felt like I’d been stung in the brain by an entire beehive and my body was marshmallow. This is why God invented Folgers, energy drinks, and… screaming children? Seemingly coming from the square of pale sky that said, “Hey!” through my window, the wails of an aggravated child outside made it more unpleasant to remain in bed than it was to pull up the tacks holding my limbs down. I tottered. Around. Just doing whatever people do in the morning. The thought of masticating last night’s leftover rice for breakfast was menacing, so again I tottered. Down the street. Getting crackers from this guy’s shop was common enough, but the next few brain waves I had were new. My back to the rising sun till now, turning to walk back home squared me to a huge, new sky.
All of Hank Rearden’s furnaces were burning just below the tree line. The clouds streaming up in columns were yet to be back lit and imitated the black clouds that must have billowed from Haphaestus’s own forge. Surely Rome and every other great civilization were burning below the horizon. The vibrations of the new day that found their way through my leaden lids would’ve rung like gold if they could’ve been sounded. I was transformed to a single note in the Gloria. A 5th, 6th- and 7th dimension for good measure- unfolded on me. Whatever kind of polyester that space-time fabric is made of became infinitely deep under my feet as my brain bore down, laden with whatever was overwhelming it. That would really have to be the last time I fry processed meat-by-product and willingly ingest it before sleeping…
[Great! The introduction over, this is where I use a hook to segway from the introduction to the post’s body]
I think what I was experiencing besides a confounded stomach was thankfulness. For my situation. For the quick silvers of a sunrise and the cherry heat of a rich sunset I knew would come later. For the food in my hands and the baggy shorts on my legs. For the fact that I can walk, swallow, breathe, twist, and talk. I’ve been a little introspective throughout the day, thinking about what other than- upcoming Thanksgiving. Geography aside, I suppose the essence of the holiday can be maintained well enough for me. Barely.
Given that the only part of ourselves we really leave after we’re ushered through death’s door into the next room is family, and given they’re an ocean and gigantic land mass away- it’ll be a little harder to be with that part of me that’s most worth appreciating.
[Now here’s the part where I talk about my pseudo-family so everything seems alright]
I recently got a sim card back that allows me to call anyone in Peace Corps Salone free of charge. Awesome. (I forgot my last phone didn’t know how to swim or else I wouldn’t have dropped it in the Great Scarcies River) Anyway, Kim in Rokupr has been giving me the numbers of fellow volunteers so I can replenish my phonebook. It’s really a charming game we’re playing- she gives me just the numbers and somehow fails to tell me who owns them. Ten times out of nine I end up having a great little chat when I call them. It’s a testament to their warmth of character that someone can call them up after a month of off-the-radar oblivion and they’ve maintained such a level of amiability. I’ve never felt “stuck” in Salone, but if I was actually going to be stuck somewhere for a holiday, this is the pseudo-family I would choose to spend it with.
[Now this is the part where I come across as somewhat arrogant, and even extol the advantages of a holiday abroad]
During my introspection, a little spaceship from my past gracefully crashed into my conscience. The spaceship held a seemingly alien memory of being shudderingly cold, but on the hunt- on the hunt for a great deal. The days of newspapers made obese by their diets of ads and coupons leading up to my Black Friday shopattack were like days of gladiator training before the colesseum. I think it takes longer to flip through the Best Buy ads than it takes my students to study for their term tests.
I was glad when I realized that whole component will be excised from my holiday season this go around. Sure I’ll struggle to come up with some gift ideas for those within gifting-distance, but they’ll be made at the blacksmith and tailor’s, not purchased from Target and encased in that freakishly strong plastic. It’s not the presence or absence of gifts or even the intentions they’re bought with, but the environment you have to enter to get them back home can be abrasive. I feel lucky.
Another facet of abroad-for-the-holidays I’m convincing myself is a positive, is the massively different frame these will be set in. Say someone thiefs your shower from your house… then every other amenity you’re used to. You’ll be pretty darn grateful for even a bucket of water and bar of soap. A pot to boil water in. A mattress. A wall with a window in it. Obviously too many things. Like I said before, the penultimate thing I couldn’t be thankful enough for is my family living on a blueberry farm in a valley’s trough, but stripping parades, football games, and commercials out, the lesser things are easy, easy to see.
[Anyway, this is the part I realize I’m writing a little too far towards the fringes of ponder some- therefore boring- and I come up with a humorous or endearing ending to make anything random I’ve just written seem fine]
I guess the thing I’m most thankful for at the moment though is the semi-permeability of my skin. If I was just living in a waterproof bag, I wouldn’t be able to sweat as profusely as I am on my porch right now. Even if it’s spamsweat from last night’s gluttonous chow session, the wind brushing past me makes me feel quite fine. The radiation from that nuclear sunrise this morning has cooled throughout the day and its activities- my school had a devotion ceremony this afternoon wherein it dedicated itself to everyone’s respective version of God, and a handsome Peace Corps volunteer there got to play a few hymns on a sexy, battery-powered LK-30 Casio Keyboard. A letter from the states turned bookmark has turned fan for me, and every flap I like to think flicks me with a little bit of my family of friends that will be celebrating their thanksgivings soon.
Maybe it comes from being around such happy, friendly people every day here, but I feel charged with enough good will to write to everyone reading this that you should just pretty much have an excellent holiday season and hug your family and stuff.
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