Grateful by Kim Fielding

Author:Kim Fielding [Fielding, Kim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2015-11-23T05:00:00+00:00

WHEN I said I was heading to my parents to celebrate Hanukkah, you might have formed a certain image…. You can erase that idea now. We aren’t exactly devout. My parents sent me to Jewish summer camp a couple of times when I was a kid—so I could learn my heritage, they said—but I was never bar mitzvahed, and the only times I’d stepped foot in a synagogue were for weddings. Our usual Hanukkah dinner? Latkes and a big baked ham. You scoff, but I’ll tell you: ham goes really well with potato pancakes.

Anyway, the house smelled great when I walked inside, schlepping my suitcase and the bags full of gifts. Everyone else was already there, and most of them rolled their eyes at my injuries.

Mom hugged me, gave me a peck on an unbruised section of my cheek, and shook her head. “Do I want to know?” she asked.

I sighed. “Not really.”

She didn’t press. Dad lugged my suitcase to my room, the same room in which I’d spent my nerdy childhood and angsty teen years. My parents had never quite got around to redecorating it, and the walls still sported posters of NSYNC, The Matrix, and Johnny Depp. In the living room, I removed the gifts from the bags and settled them among the other presents in front of the fireplace nobody ever used. Mom raised her eyebrows at the fast-food wrapping paper but didn’t say anything.

We all sat around the living room for a while, some people on chairs and couches, the rest of us on the floor. My niece Emma, who’s three, plopped herself into my lap and had a wonderful time playing with my cast. When I realized I still had Gio’s Sharpie in my pocket, I let Emma and her sister, Rose, write on the plaster. Emma drew a squiggle that she insisted was her name in cursive, while Rose carefully printed her own full name and then sketched several creatures from a Disney cartoon.

My nieces think I’m cool. They’ll probably outgrow that when they hit their teens, but for now I like being nifty Uncle Nate.

The adults talked about the stuff we always do—work, vacations, movies, home repairs. My sister, Leah, went on one of her usual political rants, even though the lot of us share the same lefty views. Dad said he was considering retiring, but he’s been saying that for a few years now. My brother, Ben, and his wife announced that they were thinking about getting a dog.

“Newfoundlands are pretty cool,” I said, and everyone looked at me.

“Suddenly you’re an expert?” asked Ben. He’s a pediatrician. We get along, but he’s six years older than me and has never admitted the possibility that I might know something he doesn’t.

“No. But I know someone who has one, and she’s sweet. Big and drooly, but mellow. He says the breed’s great with kids.”

Oops.

Everyone stared at me, clearly interested in something besides dog breeds. I pretended to admire my nieces’ artwork.

“Who’s ‘he’?” Mom asked.

“Just a guy I know.

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