Unthankful

"These are the times that try men's souls." 

— Thomas Paine

You aren't supposed to be bitter on Thanksgiving. It's a time meant for naming your blessings, for knowing how good you have it and how much worse it could really be. It's the day to set aside little troubles and be purely grateful for life and all it brings.

But two things happened this week that soured me. The first was a ringing phone, and the Army was on the other end. They informed Sky he will be going to school (AIT) soon. It's a necessary and good part of his Army career. After this comes opportunity for advancement. All I could do was look at my belly that's slowing forming into a bump, and think "He probably won't feel a kick." I thought of what our family has gone through these past weeks. It's a lot to handle in a good situation. But we're not in one right now. He'll be gone for months, and while I'm not scared to do this by myself, I am scared for us. For our family.

And then I woke up on Thanksgiving to an email about my debit card. Some heartless person stole the number and charged a couple hundred dollars in their personal shopping spree. It comes right before rent is due. It's money we don't have.

So when the Macy's Thanksgiving Day parade clicked on, tears began to pour down my face. The weight of all we've been through finally started to sink into my emotions. I looked at the balloons floating in New York City, and consciously said in my thoughts, "I'm not thankful. I'm mad. I'm tired of life being so hard."

Our Thanksgiving meal with family was delicious, and it was nice to see each other for a while. I still had that feeling, though- the one with the cry caught at the back of your throat, the kind that is ready to let out the moment someone asks, "How are you?"

After the day was over, Millie and I got in pajamas, draped a blanket around us, and watched A Charlie Brown Thanksgiving in the dim living room light. She leaned back against me, breathing in and out slowly, lazily twirling my hair around in her fingers while she chatted about Snoopy. Her footie pajamas cuddling next to me kept both of us warm. It was at that moment I felt my heart soften a little, and when she asked if I was happy (as she often does, for whatever reason), I said, "Yes. Because I have you. You're my baby." She smiled and played with my hair a little more.

And I thought, maybe some years are harder than others to be thankful. Though we're taught to appreciate all we have, no matter what, it just isn't as easy sometimes. I had felt guilty most of the day, watching everyone else talk about all the good. I couldn't do it. I hope, though, as long as I have that moment, it still counts. Maybe that moment is enough. Because it is those kind of moments I live for. They are what soothes my heart in a way I can't even try to name.