OTAS, you found it

Over the course of the last ten years my family has geographically dissipated; my parents moved to California to be among the beauty of the Sierras, I moved to the East Coast to further my education and career (and love life, to no avail), my brother has submerged himself in a relationship (he may as well have moved). For the last few years, I’ve spent Thanksgiving with my ex, my parents have spent it with neighbors, and only my brother has hung out with the family remaining in Chicago.

Christmas, too, has become difficult to spend together. Though we used to get together in California, my brother has recently taken to remaining local. Though I go to Chicago in December for a pre-Christmas with my grandparents, I do not spend the holiday itself there. Getting together with the family during the holidays is like herding cats.

In short, the holidays, once a bastion of local family and friends, has fallen victim to a change of who our family is.

This Thanksgiving Max, his mother, and I (my brother was SUPPOSED to come, and canceled last min.) went to the all-American restaurant La Mangeoire for the meal. With Max’s father now dead and his sister and bother-in-law vacationing in the Bahamas, it was just the three of us talking about books, movies we saw, and work. We then went back to his mother’s posh digs at Sutton Place for Champaign, fruit, and small talk.