I'm uncomfortable...

There's something to be said for Thanksgiving at home.

As I trudged up the hill to my flat today, lugging six bags of groceries, and hail started to pelt my face, I couldn't but be homesick for home, where, I could imagine, my mother was busy cooking in the kitchen as the rest of the family scurried around the farm. My sister would come in with her Thanksgiving dishes, Brad would say something weird, and everyone would yell at Nathan in unison for refusing to work. Then, as the fireplace glowed, we'd sit down for a meal of green bean casserole, sweet potatoes, and mom's famous brown rice. There'd be a prayer for the occasion but it would be short and instead, most of the meal would be sibling banter and the occasional innappropriate comment.

By the time I made my third Thanksgiving shopping trip today, I was nearly in tears.

Perhaps it was merely loneliness and I cooked away in the kitchen watching 'Odd Girl Out.' Or maybe it was missing my family. Either way, I was a pill for much of Thanksgiving morning.

It didn't help, I suppose, that finding Thanksgiving essentials was nearly impossible in Derry. Corn meal doesn't exist, although the chemist was especially helpful in suggesting that we purchase some maize and grind it into meal. 'Stuffing' is precookd and paltry compared to Stove Top. Fried onions couldn't be found outside some salad topping bottles. I was convinced, as I handed over our turkey to an 18-year-old kid to cook, that Thanksgiving was to be an utter failure.

Oh, how I was wrong.

Thanksgiving, it turns out, was an utter delight.

Sure, our turkey looked like it had been dropped in an incenerator. Perhaps our stuffing was a little bland. But the spread we - a ragtag lot of college students - produced was amazing.

Turkey, gravy (well, sort of -- I knew something was wrong when, with their backs shielding the pot from the rest of us, I watched Matt and Jasper shovel ingredients in to the mix), stuffing, green bean casserole (my best creation), quiche, corn, veggies with cheese, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce (homemade), rolls, apple pie. Appetizers like nachos and salsa, spring rolls, vegetable wraps, and some sort of strange sausage puff creation. And, of course, plenty of wine, Irish cream, and beer.

I did find it telling, however, that while Kerry and I began cooking before lunchtime to clear oven space, the boys all arrived in the kitchen with just an hour to go, shoving and elbowing their way around the oven and microwave. It was an adorable site to see them all lined up by the stove.

The only near fatality was our pumpkin pie. I, apparently, didn't check the can for ingredients. Neither did the chefs, Ben and Jay. So, with just hours to go, we discovered the pre-cooked pie crusts were all wrong and we didn't have any condensed milk. Jay and I, frustrated from a long day of shopping and planning, threw in the towel. Ben, however, had nothing but optimism.

He disappeared to the store and came back with Cheerios, cookies, and a cooked pie crust.

'We're screwed,' I whispered under my breath.

But, surprisingly, we weren't. Ben decided to crush up the pie crust as Neil feverishly mixed the filling. An hour later, we had a delicious pumpkin pie. (Proving the stuff is idiot-proof.)

We had a great crowd - about 10 in all. The flatmates, Matt (a French-Irish-American hybrid who cooked the turkey), Jasper, Barry, Sara, Deirdre, and Neil.

We made everyone write something they were thankful for on their cups so the suggestions ranged from, 'Guiness 49' to 'corn not in corn pudding' to 'Neil's cup, for which he is thankful.'

Ben also opened with a short description of Thanksgiving and a prayer/speech. Kerry and I couldn't stop laughing as he went on and on about living in a world free from terrorism and great blessings and freedom. I felt horrible, especially when, as the tears streamed down my face, others in the crowd thought I was merely touched by Ben's kind words about finding friends and family in Ireland.

Sure, that was it.

We also went around the table offering up thing we were thankful for. When it got to Neil, an odd kid on a normal day, he looked terrified.

Pause.

'I'm.... uncomfortable...'

We all exchanged glances and held our breath.

'..but thankful.'

Whooosh.

'Good enough for me,' I said. 'Next?'

After stuffing ourselves with food and laughing through dinner, we played random games into the night, including my new 'Urban Legends' card game which prompted a lively discussion about Napoleon's missing penis and it's relative dimensions and a game where we each had to select a name from a cup, fasten it to our forehead, and ask the crowd questions to ascertain our identity. We finished the night, of course, with a rowdy game of Kings.

Though I started the day missing home and wishing I could be back in Coats, I ended sincerely thankful for the Irish family that we've all created...