it’s hard to know how to announce bad news. when good things happen, you want to shout it to the world, post it on the internet, email everyone you know. but with bad news, you need for people to know, but it doesn’t mean that the telling is easy to do. eventually, tho, i guess it just takes biting the bullet and doing it. so: andy and i have split up. he’s moved out, we’ve divided our bank accounts, our common objects have regained their posessives: my car, your books. our mail gets sorted into separate shoeboxes; he comes by to pick it up when i’m not home. zeke is now the kitty of divorce. a latch-key cat.

as incongruous as it may seem, this post is actually about my favorite holiday: thanksgiving. they say that you don’t get to choose your family. generally that saying brings to mind blood-relations: weird aunt sally or your annoying half-brother. but the bonds of family stretch further than blood and marriage. the reason i love thanksgiving is that i’ve spent most of my post-college years gathering with friends at “orphan thanksgivings.” no one arrives a total stranger, and no one arrives knowing everyone, but for one chilly november afternoon, family is the group of people that you are preparing and sharing a hot meal with.

i thought i’d picked my future family: it was andy. this year i guess i won’t be spending thanksgiving with the person i thought was going to be my nearest of kin, my partner in life. it’s a shock, and it hurts in ways that i never imagined to be possible. on the other hand, friends have extended invitations to me for more orphan thanksgivings than i can possibly attend in one weekend. and later in the weekend i’ll be going back to idaho to spend time with my parents, my brothers and their girlfriends. and all that makes me feel pretty loved. we can’t choose our family. but we can be grateful for them in all their changing forms.