I was worried about the holidays in LA.
Having moved here less than a year ago - which most people consider "new" - I still don't have a group of people to hang out with, a community, or really close friends. Considering how many Thanksgivings I spent alone in New York, where I did have close friends (who unfortunately were either traveling or just otherwise occupied), what chance did I have for home and hearth on the other coast?
But when I moved here at the end of January, there was one invitation extended by a business associate who'd been particularly supportive last year during my attempts to move here: "If you don't have anywhere to go for Thanksgiving, you are invited to come here," to celebrate with his wife, son, friends and family. All year long, I've been comforted by the thought that I would have at least somewhere to go on Thanksgiving.
That invitation was reiterated several times over the year, and as Thanksgiving approached, other invitations from other people started rolling in, not the least of which was from my boss, who is not only the best boss I've ever had, but who has grown to become one of my best friends. I was excited at the prospect of helping her cook (something she doesn't normally do much of), and once again making mashed potatoes and green bean casserole, which has become an annual Thanksgiving tradition whether I spent it alone or not.
In the end, I wound up cramming in two turkey dinners with two different families, turning down a number of other invitations. And it wasn't just that I had somewhere to go, and somebody to spend it with. I was really lucky to share a meal, share a day, share a holiday, share a tradition, start a tradition with people I really love, with whom I had a great time, who never made me feel like an orphan.
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