Turkey Day, Russian Buffet

I can honestly say that for as much as I’m sure I missed out on celebrating Thanksgiving in America, I absolutely did not miss hearing Adam Sandler’s famed Turkey Day song. I was perfectly happy without it and all of the other goofy, slightly annoying things about the holiday back in the States–Walmarts filled up to the hilt, baked birds larger than beach balls, the difficulty of bouncing back from a four-day weekend a mere two weeks before winter break. All of it. Besides, we did pretty well for ourselves here in Moscow, coordinating a potluck of sorts in which at least half of the kids in the program participated. Getting through without an oven made preparations a little more difficult, however, we now know that four burners and a toaster oven do in fact suffice, even for formidably sized meals.

Being away during such a ubiquitous celebration really reminded me of the five thousand miles laying between me and Foristell, Missouri. I guess it takes a holiday to do that, and I’m certainly looking forward to returning just in time to witness America’s grossly consumer-driven Christmas season. They’ve strung up some lights and flashing Christmas tree signs around Moscow, but nothing close to the musically coordinated light shows to be seen in the lowliest of Midwestern suburbs. As cynical as that all sounds, I do really love the season, and it’ll be the perfect buffer for the weirdness of having to return home after what feels both like an eternity and an instant.

At home, our tree has always been shoved into a corner, which leaves this little space in the back that isn’t exactly useful for any reason. But as kid, I would wiggle back into that space (if I did it now, I’m sure the tree would capsize) and lie on my back, looking up through the bottom of the tree. I just liked being back there not doing much of anything but squinting my eyes, letting the rays of the mini lights extend out further and back again. Thinking back on that, I realize how much bigger the world has become since then, how I’ve been able to crawl out from my small and obscure corner of Missouri. But I also appreciate how staring up through the Christmas tree can be just mesmerizing as the night lights of giant European city. Wonder comes in all sizes, I guess.