“Meow!” Onyx hurtles through the air, and I catch her as if she’s a football thrown by Fran Tarkenton. Back before he became a Republican asshole, but that’s neither here nor there. She tucks her head under my chin and purrs loudly. Jet saunters over and whaps my shin with his paw. He immediately follows it up with a gentle rub of his head against the same shin, so I allow the hit this one time.
“Time for treats!” I carry Onyx into the kitchen with Jet trotting behind us. I set Onyx on the ground before giving her and Jet their Temptations. I grab a Diet Coke from the fridge before bringing it to the living room. Then, I go upstairs to change into sweats and heave a sigh of relief. It’s been a lot of interaction over the past few days, and I’m happy to be on my own again. With my cats, of course. Who are prancing around me in glee now that I’m home. We go back to the living room, and I check my blog. There are several heartwarming stories of family reconciliation and reunions. BearlyThere writes, “Before this year, I hadn’t talked to my brother or sister in over ten years even though we all live in Denver. Our family fell apart after my mother died because we all felt we deserved certain heirlooms that our mother promised us. Unfortunately, she promised a particular painting to all three of us—not out of maliciousness, but because she didn’t want to disappoint any of us. Unforgivable words were said by all three of us, and we all went our separate ways. A few months ago, my sister called me and said that she was diagnosed with terminal liver cancer. That shocked the hell out of me because in the back of my mind, I had all the time in the world to reconnect with my brother and sister. I didn’t, and we had Thanksgiving together for the first time in ten years. It was awkward and sad, but also heartwarming and joyful. I got to meet two nephews and three nieces I’d never met before, plus my sister’s wife and my brother’s girlfriend. It was fucking amazing.”
SinsationalShivers reminisces, “I’m from a large Italian family. Our way of showing love is to shout at each other. I’m married to a Norwegian woman, and the first time I met her family, I was floored at how quiet they were. Afterwards, I asked my honey if her family hated me, and she just laughed and said that’s how they are. Conversely, when she met my family, she was wide-eyed as they screamed back and forth. It’s taken five years for us to truly understand each other’s family and by extension, each other. This year, we had a mixed Thanksgiving with her family and mine, and her uncle hooked up with my cousin.” PizzaHo adds, “My mother walked out on us when I was eight. My father told my brothers and me that it was because she hated us. Not him, just the kids. It wasn’t until this year, fifteen years later, that we found out it’s because he was terribly abusive. She always meant to come back for us, but any time she tried, he beat the shit out of her. It’s only because he died a few months ago that she was able to reconnect with us. I couldn’t be happier.” BetterOffTed shares his story as well. “I grew up dirt poor, the fifth out of seven kids of a single mom. Our father died when I was six, and my mom worked three menial jobs just so we could eat—barely—every day. My oldest sister was the mom around the house, and she did all the cooking, cleaning, and tucking us into bed. My oldest brother has had a job of some sort since he was a paper boy at age eleven. We didn’t have much in terms of material goods, but what we had was a shit-ton of love. My mom remarried this year to a man who treats her like a queen, and she’s finally able to take a breath now and then. They’re going to London for a three week vacation, and I could not be happier for them.”