A First Thanksgiving

A love letter to old friends and a New city.

It was my first Thanksgiving away from my family. I was living in a tiny Brooklyn apartment with a man I loved and had only known for two years. We had gotten married on August 30th, took our friend’s beat up mini-van up the East coast for a week long honeymoon, made it back in time to pick up this friend’s band on the Lower East side by midnight, and then got dropped off to all 220 square feet of our new home.

For the first few weeks we had almost no furniture other than our mattress and a new love seat. We had purchased…