Full

I stepped outside to take a breath, lean on the chipped blue railing, and stare across the beach. The waves danced slowly, but all I could hear were kids squealing, that random high-pitched noise, and the thud of a basketball. I looked near my shoe, and small-potted cacti smiled back.

I loved being with family, but I loved being alone as well.

In my younger years after eating, I’d sneak out the back door, not to run and squeal, but to wander.

“Carly, you coming?” I crouched under the pines trees, crawling from my grandma’s backyard to the neighbors, following the tree line up behind their houses. Carly followed, wondering why we were again wondering off. “Because,” was my reply.

I felt like an adventurer, staying the trees, almost in a forest, if a few scattered trees on the coast of southern California could be considered a forest. My parents were cleaning the remains of thanksgiving off plates, my sisters each talking to someone else, and that meant I was free to listen to my body move, think.

I’d return when I finally hit the yellow stucco house that had a fenced back yard, where I was forced to follow the sidewalk to the stairs of my Grandma’s condo. When I’d return, the adults were sneaking their pie before the kids came in to demolish it. I’d then help myself to some apple pie, sit on the couch, and joke with my cousins, and watch the news.

Thanksgiving wasn’t always about giving thanks, although we often conferred about what we were thankful for, my Grandma and my Dad getting teary-eyed as they talked, and me sitting there wondering where I missed the teary gene. Thanksgiving was about being full.

It’d start with my Grandma’s broccoli soup, which we’d slurp down in Styrofoam cups. Then we’d eat pyrogies, the Ukrainian food my Canadian family coveted, homemade tamales from my aunts, and my mom’s special “real” apple pie. And of course, turkey. We’d eat until we were full, and then some.

But thanksgiving stands out not because of the bellyache full, but the heartache full. Our diverse and ethnic family gathering, each with distinct backgrounds and beliefs, united. The noise, the wandering times of silence, the beach, the basketball, the freedom and the cousins wrestling: it was “full.” Full of memories, and full of love.

This was written for Scribbit's Write Away Contest, which had to be about Thanksgiving and had to have a theme that started with the letter "F." It's scary to post something I whipped up so quick, but it's worth a try for sweet beauty product from Suave! Thanks for the chance to enter!