Thanksgiving

I didn't have to cook this Thanksgiving.

To some people the thought of not cooking would be followed by a sigh of relief. For me, I felt a little unstable.

I'm the guy who makes everything. I'm the guy who doesn't let you bring anything. And not to be nice, but because I've been planning a menu with complementary dishes for the past three months. I'm the guy who gives the toast. I'm the guy who looks over at his partner, who has decorated the whole house, and smiles. I'm the guy who's a part of the Thanksgiving Dinner Team.

Well, not this year.

This year, I was the guy who brought his parents to Thanksgiving at his friends' house. And we ate someone else's stuffing and someone else's turkey. And it was good. I spent the whole day...doing nothing. I slept in. I went to the Korean Spa and mediated. I went over to my friends' house at my own leisurely pace. I had a glass of champagne at 12:30. I got out of my friend Steve's Mom's way because she is the Queen of her Kitchen.

I watched my parents walk in the front door and get greeted immediately by people who love me. I looked around to see where my father was. He had escaped into the kitchen to talk to Steve's Mom about food. And that's when I knew we were okay. My father doesn't really talk to people. He's shy.

Actually, that's unfair. He's the shy one in our family. And we're all social. It's the same thing with my Mom. For years I've said my Mom is not a good cook, a story which she recounted LOUDLY on Thanksgiving. But since she was with other LOUD people, it was totally fine. My ex's family was very subdued and being loud was considered inappropriate. I'm half-Latin and mainly from the neck up because I've got a BIG OL' MOUTH. So in my family, my Mom's a bad cook. But in the world of home cooks, my Mom is great. She just doesn't love it. All the men in our family LOVE to cook. It gives us identity. It gives the three of us something to talk about. It makes us comfortable. That's because it's a passion. So when my normally quiet Dad was going off on his own and not standing in a corner listening to my Mom and I hold court, I was curious. But he found common ground. And my friends are people who my parents would talk to. They are people who make them comfortable. So it would make sense that Steve's Mom would be the same way.

It's funny. Because Steve and I had been dying for our Moms to meet, but it was actually his Mom and my Dad who exchanged numbers. Before you get all eye rolly on me, my parents are still together and it wasn't like that. All though I do think it's funny that my Dad exchanged digits with Steve's Mom. And the two Mom's DID get along and they had something in common. They raised two artistic sons with a voice of their own. And they made sacrifices to make sure that we had a good life. And we do. Mine's in transition now. But it's good again.

And the good job that our mothers did was in evidence later that night when Steve and I were sitting on his bed, crying while watching GLEE. It was the episode where the whole Glee Club stands up for Kurt. It's the one that just aired about Kurt's dad and Finn's Mom getting married. The one where Finn dances with Kurt. The one where Finn realizes that he needs to man up and be a brother to Kurt, a protector.

And I saw Steve turn around and look at his Mom with tears in his eyes. A look that I know all too well that basically says, "Thanks Mom, for never finding fault and for always believing in me." There aren't enough words.