Oakdale Ink

November 2025: Thankfulness

“Reflect upon your present blessings—of which every man has many—not on your past misfortunes, of which all men have some.”

- Charles Dickens

“Leave a Message After the Tone” by Erin Post

Please leave a message after the tone.

*Beeeeep*

Hey mom, It’s me again. 

Thanks for the sweatshirt. I wear it every time I need a jacket. Call me when you can?

*Beeeep*

Hey mom, 

Just calling to say thanks for sweatpants and boots. I am definitely ready for winter. Well at least my wardrobe is. I love you. Talk to you later?

*Beeep*

Hi momma, 

Thank you for the blanket. I sleep with it every night. I’m noticing a pattern of you wanting me to be warm. It's still not too cold yet though. I appreciate the gifts no matter the season. I’ll see you soon. Thanks again for everything. 

*Beep*

Hey momma,

I figured out why you wanted me to be warm. The world is so cold without you. Thank you for the jackets and layers, but nothing can bring back the warmth of your smile. Please call me back. I miss you so much mom. 

This number is no longer in service.

“The Imperfect Thanksgiving” by Evah Long

Thanksgiving is meant to be a day where you reflect on how your life is more fortunate than others. Family, financial security, and good health are among the top choices for individuals to name as their god-given luck. However, as my hand hesitated on the cold doorknob of my parents’ front door, I couldn’t help but believe my family wasn’t a bragging point; it was the cause of my undeniable dread. 

If it weren’t for the heavy snow beginning to fall and settle onto the ground, I could’ve remained on that porch, contemplating even going in at all. After fixing my hair one last time and letting out a short breath, I turned the ornate gold doorknob to reveal a perfectly manicured foyer. The first eyes that locked mine were my mother’s; the piercing of her blue eyes bore into my warm, brown ones. A smile plastered across her face as she crossed the foyer to me, pulling me into an embrace. Once she pulled away, she eyed the sweet potato casserole I had in my arms and commented, “Oh honey, you shouldn’t have! Stick to something simpler next time, like the mashed potatoes, leave the more complicated stuff to your sister.” Fighting the urge to retaliate, my jaw tightened as I managed a small smile, reminding myself that I only had to make it through two hours of snarky remarks and pitying stares before I could return to my cozy, warm, empty apartment. 

Speaking of my sister, when my mother stepped away, I saw them: my angelic sister with her straight blonde hair, her perfect husband, and their two young children, my two-year-old niece and four-year-old nephew. They all wore matching outfits, white cable-knit sweaters and jeans. My niece toddled around the living room, babbling and giggling, making anyone in the vicinity gush and fawn over her. As I was constantly reminded, they were the perfect family: Loving, committed, affluent, stable. Compared to me, there was no guess as to whose life was better. Beyond my control, my eyes filled with envy at the scene.

The entire family had gathered for my wedding six months prior. My father walked me down the aisle, whispering how he was adamant I had finally found the perfect man. My sister was the maid of honor, gushing about how we could raise our children together and have double-date nights. My mother sat in the front row, hand over her heart, thanking god that I had found someone decent enough who wanted to marry me. My family’s approval was short-lived, as three months later, after discovering my husband’s infidelity, I announced our divorce over a text message to our family group chat. 

From that point on, I was shunted to the sidelines of the family. Always the last to show up, always the last to leave. I would sit in the corner of family reunions, watching as the rest of them laughed and embraced each other. One perfect, happy family. As I walked into that living room, so full of joy and love, I resumed that role, sinking into the shadows of the armchair in the far corner. 

Not before long, my dad called out from the kitchen that the turkey was ready. Without as much as glancing in my direction, the rest of the family clambered into the dining room, settling into the great feast. I slipped into the dining room as well, taking the seat at the end of the long wooden table. My heart panged as I watched my family dig into their Thanksgiving meal, laughing and talking as if I weren’t even there. I turned my eyes away from them, fixing them on the window, showing the ongoing storm rage on.

The first time I was acknowledged was when my father pulled me back to the conversation and asked, “Elizabeth, how’s work going?”

“Good,” I responded shortly. “I was promoted last week.” I added, sitting up straighter at that mention.

Shifting the conversation, my sister called out, “So, how’s Adam doing?” The table fell silent at the mention of my ex-husband’s name. Even my young niece and nephew took a pause in their giggling and babbling at the mention of ‘Uncle Adam’s’ name. 

As casually as I could, I cleared my throat and responded: “I wouldn’t know. Last time we spoke he was doing well, his firm is doing well, he's still living in the house.” 

“Do you think there could be a chance–” My mother started. 

Before she could finish her sentence, I cut her off with a simple, “No”, starting directly at my plate. Despite what my family believed, there was no salvaging Adam and I’s relationship; The divorce was final, and so were my feelings towards him. 

“But maybe if you just talk to him–” She started again, clearly not taking the expression on my face as a hint to stop.

“Mom, no. The divorce was finalized last week. There’s no going back, I don’t want to go back.” I shot back, this time making direct eye contact with her.

My sister hopped into the conversation, adding in the sweetest voice possible: “Well, when do you want to start dating again? You don’t have forever, you know. You only have a couple more years before your biological clock starts ticking,” And with that, she gestured to her husband and two kids sitting beside her.

A sudden flash of anger filled me, and I pursed my lips in an attempt not to retaliate. My heart beat rapidly in my chest as I began to long for my empty apartment awaiting me. Instead I rose from my seat and said shortly, “You guys have a good Thanksgiving.” I turned from their stunned faces and briskly walked out of the dining room.

“Wait, wait, don’t go. We didn’t mean to offend you!” I heard my mother call out from the dining room. The scraping of chairs announced my sister, mother, and father rising from the table. 

“Don’t leave, it’s thanksgiving for God’s sake!” My father called out as they entered the living room.

I opened my mouth to retaliate, but before I could, a collection of loud beeping sounds rang out, coming from our phones. I glanced at mine, the message on the screen reading:

NATIONAL WEATHER SERVICE CHICAGO/ROMEOVILLE, IL

WHAT… Blizzard conditions expected. Total snow accumulations of 20 to 22 inches, with wind gusts up to 50mph.

WHERE… Cook County, including the city of Chicago, as well as DuPage, Lake, and Will Counties

WHEN… 7:00 PM Thursday to 8:00 AM Friday

IMPACTS... Travel will be extremely dangerous to impossible. Widespread blowing snow will significantly reduce visibility, with whiteout conditions expected. Power outages and downed trees are likely due to heavy snow and high winds.

With impeccable timing, all the lights shut off in the room at once, leaving us in complete darkness. It was apparent: I wasn’t going anywhere tonight.

The argument quickly fizzled out of our minds as we all went into preparation mode. 

“I’ll grab all the blankets and coats I can find, you girls should still have your old coats in the coat closet.” My mother said quickly, the little light from the setting sun illuminating her nodding to my sister and me. 

“Elizabeth, could you run and light all of the candles that are in living room?” My father instructed; I quickly set down my purse and rushed to grab a lighter.

After twenty minutes of rushing to grab flashlights, candles, and anything to keep us warm, my family was all sitting in the living room around the fireplace, wrapped up in blankets. The only sound that prevailed in the room was the crackling of the fire and the sound of the wind whistling from outside.

My sister was the first to break the silence: “I’m sorry for everything I said,” she glanced up to meet my eyes. “It’s difficult for me to imagine a life outside of this.” And with that, she gestured to her asleep daughter in her arms. 

“You’ve got other things going for you. You have an amazing career, your own apartment, and your own independence. You don’t need a husband or kids to give you purpose,” She finished with a small smile.

"Lizzie's always been independent.” My father added shortly. The small use of my old childhood nickname Lizzie caused a pang in my chest. 

“Your purpose isn’t defined by them, even though you are a great mother and wife.” I added to my sister, returning her small smile.

“Thank you,” She responded, her voice filled with such sincerity that I felt the events of today’s thanksgiving, and even every instance in the past when we had fought, fading away.

“We’re proud of the woman you’ve become today, no matter what.” My mother said softly, completely separate from her usual loud voice.

The feeling I felt had no other word: I was thankful for my family for the first time in years. Although we could be messy, although we fought and brought each other down at times, we were a family that was there during all times of need. Reaching over the couch to grab my sister’s hand, I squeezed it once and let myself fall into a deep sleep: Content with my imperfect Thanksgiving.

“Year 9” by Nicholas Antezana

7th grade. I feel while it is separated by a year it is in every way a precursor to my 9th grade year. They have much in common, but what is important to know is that in 7th grade I overcame my grief and depression when I was afflicted by it a year earlier. I think you know what this means for 9th grade, this is it. 

I remember middle school. It shaped me into who I am today. The Nick before then was meek, shy and felt incapable of what I found I could accomplish. I had also made 2 of my greatest friends there, Doug and Mark. Doug, I have been friends with since cub scouts where we met in a situation where I found my alleged “voice” talking about star wars for hours on end, how the clone wars was the best animated show put to tv ETC. Unfortunately at the time our friendship was a bit tumultuous as after 1 too many fights and me not communicating when joking went too far. We became mutual friends of each other but still hung out. I met Mark through Doug, at first I didn’t like him but after getting to know each other and over the summer finding out we both liked playing fortnite we became best friends. I was prepared when high school came but to be honest I was still worried about what lay dormant inside. If only I had known. But I had goals. I joked to my friends that I was going to have the pinnacle 2000’s high school experience, pretentious drama, struggle with grades, break into song randomly, and Find Love. if only I had known

There is usually a rush and high school was no different, First was P.E. I remember knowing in hine sight this would be my last P.E. The class I would take was exciting, the teacher was nice and the subject was, well, Unenjoyable, as I developed in middle school a weird attraction for rogue volleyballs and basketballs to ricochet towards my skull would continue. What was strange was during the class basketball unit I realized something, my basketball shot, the one that had lost so many middle school games, had improved, dare I say perfected. It was strange that I made almost every shot. I don't know why and honestly I was a little freaked out. I started getting looks when I nailed shots so at every opportunity I stopped, I don't know why. I know for someone like me, being good at sports is very rare but I realized after I started nailing shots I started becoming over confident and having spurts of cockyness. I didn’t want to become like the jocks who bullied me back in middle school as I saw parallels between me and their behavior. I still keep it a secret to this day. I still don't know why but something just tells me I should. English was interesting. I learned many things in that class but not the subject. We read books and studied topics. I knew someone in the class, Mary, she was a mutual friend from middle school and hung out with Mark. We didn’t interact in that class but as I learned maybe we should have. The most notable event was when we were teamed up into study groups. I was in a group with a few random kids and an old face. Robin and I were friends in elementary school when I barely talked. I sat with her and her friend Sara and broke off the friendship naturally. My parents met Robin and always told me her and Sara may have both had crushes on me. I at the time didn't know about Sara but from what I saw from Robin it was very true, she spent more time trying to get my attention than working in the group and after a video recording went haywire which somehow painted me in a bad light we all got poor grades. I thought little of it at the time but later I would find out how this was a precursor.Then there was lunch. Lunch was a massive time as I had both Doug and Mark in the same period. Mary was also at the table and an adjacent friend Beck came by every ounce and a while. This was the time of my life. We had so much fun together goofing around and just talking. Later on a trip to New York my parents would see me texting Mark and ask why I was just texting him and not my other “friends”. So I created a group chat just to please them, jokingly called the Soviet reunion. Fortunately we would bond on this group chat and during lunch.  Math was also interesting. I started out in normal math but quickly realized that I could do better. I moved up to honors math and would often doubt myself through it but eventually I made it. Lastly there was theatre class which was amazing! I thoroughly enjoyed it and settled in. One thing I remember is a name on the wall. It was the name of my theatre teacher from middle school who was taught by my current theatre teacher. The image is striking to me and reminds me how I'm on the right path and maybe one day I too can inspire others. Through this time not many developments between my family would happen. The most impactful thing was my aunt who was diagnosed with cancer and would need our help to get through surgeries to try and remove it. It struck my father harder than anyone as an uncle I barely remember also had cancer and passed from it. I appreciate my Aunt now because luckily the cancer was removed before it metastasized and has been 11 months clean. As the term came to an end I almost asked a girl who I liked because of a bad personal therapist recommending it to me. I would talk it over with my parents and decide not to and we would leave the therapist which turned out to be a good thing since she later showed her true and putrid colors. But on that last day of term 2 I sat with my friends at lunch and expected to see them tomorrow. Optimistic then. If only I had known then.

Term 3 started with college and career prep and history and then unlike my first 2 terms had lunch immediately after. I was unfortunately met with a large and unpleasant surprise. While Doug was there Mary, Mark, and Beck were missing. I was distressed by this originally but eventually accepted this. Maybe things would have been different if they were there. I moved through my classes seemingly easily and still kept up with the soviet reunion to the best of my ability, but since I had no classes with them it was hard. I had game nights with Mark but barely saw Beck and never saw Mary in person. My theatre class was gone but I had plans to continue it through joining the play tech crew. When I signed up I was extremely nervous but soon bonded with the techies and everyone else involved in the play. It was around February, I was in my engineering class which besides the teacher being good was very unenjoyable. I had always hated tech and above all engineering as a whole. There were some avenues in the class that I could get to for partner work and it ranged from bad to decent. I was walking outside one day on my phone while we were filing out of the class and I got a tap on my shoulder. I look behind me and it’s Sara. “I like your shoes” she said and I said “oh! Thank you!” and kept walking. I was, to put it simply, very confused and talked to my parents about it the next day. My Dad told me that he felt bad for her as she may have been trying to have a conversation with me since that crush thing might still be happening. He then told me I should go talk to her tomorrow so she doesn't feel bad. I thought that was absurd and it would give her the wrong idea but my parents said it would be the right thing to do. The next day I struggled walking up to Sara but did it because I didn’t want to have that conversation with my Dad on how I didn’t do what he said or lie about doing it entirely. I wish I had lied. So I walked up to her and immediately when I said “Hey Sara” her face lit up like a lightbulb. Our conversation was brief but I came away from it feeling good. I told my Dad about it on the way to school the next day, February 14th. He said “that's nice, Girls like that don’t come around often “ Suggestively, I called him out on it. He then said I should just be open to having female friends, and since my friends were in different classes I could have one right there. I realized he was right and probably wasn't suggesting anything since my family had a no dating policy.

I decided since it may make Sara feel good and possibly get me a good engineering partner I would talk to her again. So I would. So I would again. So I would again, again. It was around the 4th time where I started realizing this was a bit unnecessary for a work partner.  But every day I was drawn back to her. Not talking to her every day because I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea about her and me became me not wanting to look weird. Our conversations became longer and longer. I became excited for the next time I would see her face light up and see her smile. Whenever I play video games I play music on my phone and I realized the songs I was playing changed and the way I interpreted them did also. It wasn’t long before I realized how attractive she was. It took me little after that when I realized I had a thing for her. My life became more about her and less about everything else. Things were looking up. Me finding love in high school became closer when I thought it was a joke. My parents didn’t know yet and while there was still the “no dating thing”, I didn’t care. I have never had a girlfriend before so this was new to me. Finally I asked her out in the only way I could. To sit at lunch together one day, alone. She said yes. The joy I had could not be contained that I spilled the beans to my Dad. My whole family was supportive and it was great. Our “lunch date” was amazing, we talked, laughed, and bonded. I felt happier than ever. I never mentioned this to any of the soviets besides Mark, but progressively started talking about Doug less, and day dreaming about Sara more. We of course talked more and progressively spent more time together. I felt high on love and felt real happiness, one I can’t quite describe.

Then it just stopped… I asked Sara out on another lunch date but now she said she had to hang out with her friends but she will see. This time I wanted to introduce her to Doug but she never came over to the table. I asked her again later and she said the same thing. Nothing again. I saw the writing on the wall and also soon found out about our religious differences. I didn’t know if I would call it breaking it off because I’m not even sure if there was anything to break off but that's what I decided. I felt like my heart was shattered and I gave Sara the hammer. She would come up to me later and try to start a conversation, we talked again but not longer than we had too and I tried my best to signal how things were over in the nicest way possible. Or maybe it wasn't over because it never started. I just realized I wanted out, I evaluated things and realized things like interests barely lined up. I would rather leave than risk pursuing someone who was never even attracted to me in the first place, an answer I still don’t know today. The show would happen but we would get home at 8 every night a week before, it was a blessing since I didn’t have to think about what was going on. Sara would soon after get with someone else and I just tried my hardest to move on. One thing came forward however as soon I would be going to the movies with the soviets. I was excited and something happened while I was there. I saw them, my friends, they missed me at least most of them. I was really the only one gone from both the group chat and in person interactions. I wondered if it was by choice. We started heading out more, going to movies together and talking again. Me and Doug finally mended the rift between our friendship and my relationship with Mary and Beck started to thrive. Time passed quicker then, I felt more at home than ever. I felt the high from when I was around Sara but now with my friends. On the last day of school we all gathered together at the pool at Becka's party and celebrated. 4 weeks later my friends gathered at my house. We were just finishing up a movie and that when I saw it I had accomplished that one goal. 

This is my love story. The traditional high school story has the two lovers get together and live happily ever after. This high school is not that. It's a complex place with many different people. I still question if she ever had feelings for me in the first place and if maybe if I sat alone for the second lunch date she would have showed up. But I’m thankful for this. Most people seeing me not get together with Sara will see this as a sad story. But I think what defines a love story is vague for a reason. Because I fell in love, and that love has been acted on and reciprocated. My friends love me and I love them. Want to see my love story? This is it. My tomorrow, my today, and everyday after where I can look back and know that not because of blood, or feelings there are 4 people out there who love me. And I can live with that.