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Three Memorable Thanksgivings

Written by: Lea 11/4/2005 12:00:00 AM
"When you’re on your own, Thanksgivings can vary from fabulous to miserable, just like life in general. Sometimes you’re at a huge table with family with friends, sometimes you’re alone---the options are endless. Three Thanksgiving pasts come to mind, each different, and each offering an insight and a lasting memory along with the meal.
In the Cameron Highlands of Malaysia. I was by myself in a faux Tudor inn set amid tea-leaf terraced hills. I was on assignment and missing my family. But I reluctantly hauled myself out of my beamed little room into a beamed little dining room, and ordered a chicken drumstick, silently wishing myself a Happy Thanksgiving. The waiter was solicitous, but I was shocked and thrilled when he brought the chicken with a tiny paper American flag he had drawn---stuck in its thigh. He somehow knew. We smiled. That difficult meal alone remains a golden memory of that holiday, and of my travels.
Another Thanksgiving, after my divorce, I was trysting on a yacht moored in the Caribbean in the harbor at the Ritz Carlton in St Thomas. The guy was a Texan who worked in ‘arbitrage” (something to do with finances) in NYC, and he spent most of the time on a cell phone, decidedly unromantic. The yacht was at least 50 feet, and came with a captain, a huge round bed, and a marble bath. The guy asked me where I wanted to go, and I chose a pretty area called “The Baths,” where there would be lots of rocks to snorkel around in the turquoise water, certainly a first for me on Turkey Day.
“Captain, take my darlin’ wherever she wants,” Arbitrage Guy said. ”It’s Thanksgiving.” So we headed off for a couple of hours to a pretty cove where I splashed around the rocks, feeling decidedly spoiled, while he stayed on deck, on the cell. We had turkey and champagne onboard afterwards, gazing at the stars, phone off. The relationship did not last longer than the leftovers, but what a memory.
The hardest and perhaps most meaningful Thanksgiving was in 2001, three weeks after my much-loved second husband died. The hostess graciously sat me next to an empty seat, with a flickering candle where my husband’s place setting would have been. She meant well, but it was so sad. I managed to give thanks for the precious time I had with him, and realized after a few minutes that indeed, I was truly thankful -- both for the kindness of friends, and the power of love.
(Parts excerpted from Solo Traveler [Fodors’s])

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