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I had thanksgiving with my St. Lucian family, my loud, unapologetic, laughs-too-loud, generation-gap homemade *** heads in phones, blasting dancehall music old ladies dancing clap-back talk-back family. "Play us a song", my cousin and I sent to my room to play jazz chords, I finger along clumsily. He's in college and his dark eyes close, fingers sliding up and down the frets, frowning in concentration, cursing quietly at a missed note. My islander family comes over and prompts impromptu drinking games, "I'm not looking, I saw nothing", I lick a bit of vanilla ***** from my mother's shot glass, alcohol becomes a family affair, it takes away the danger and the stigma and throws a friendly, lovely light on a vice. It's raining, it's cold, islanders do not belong on a Kansas porch smoking cigarettes in the dark rain. I light candles on the wall. They all outlast their welcome, between four and a half hours of transition from uncomfortable "i don't remember your name", put on the spot, only-child-becomes-one-of-several to discussing baby names and family gossip, they all wrap up their food slaved over at nine am, they all troop out the door, they take their coats, they leave their wide smiles with us until next time.
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Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
St. Lucia Thanksgiving
I had thanksgiving with my St. Lucian family, my loud, unapologetic, laughs-too-loud, generation-gap homemade *** heads in phones, blasting dancehall music old ladies dancing clap-back talk-back family. "Play us a song", my cousin and I sent to my room to play jazz chords, I finger along clumsily. He's in college and his dark eyes close, fingers sliding up and down the frets, frowning in concentration, cursing quietly at a missed note. My islander family comes over and prompts impromptu drinking games, "I'm not looking, I saw nothing", I lick a bit of vanilla ***** from my mother's shot glass, alcohol becomes a family affair, it takes away the danger and the stigma and throws a friendly, lovely light on a vice. It's raining, it's cold, islanders do not belong on a Kansas porch smoking cigarettes in the dark rain. I light candles on the wall. They all outlast their welcome, between four and a half hours of transition from uncomfortable "i don't remember your name", put on the spot, only-child-becomes-one-of-several to discussing baby names and family gossip, they all wrap up their food slaved over at nine am, they all troop out the door, they take their coats, they leave their wide smiles with us until next time.
#family #thanksgiving #islanders #love #warm
snarkysparkles
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Nov 27, 2015
Nov 27, 2015 at 2:16 AM UTC
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