Belonging - an adopted by Hamilton sequel

26th of November, 2020: Calling

26th of November, 2020

It was thanksgiving. And all in all, it was a different thanksgiving. It was only going to be us this year. Usually we'd go to a relative's house and celebrate with every possible family member you could think of, and eat a mix of different cuisines. My Dad usually called it a controlled chaos. I'd always be drained of energy afterwards. But I'd be happy, because I had been surrounded by people I now considered family. And because I'd spent so many years not celebrating it in that way.

That was a big contrast to this year.

My Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, having occupied it while trying to make a smaller thanksgiving dinner. Which was filled with meals that were both traditionally American, but also courses from their respective families.
But they both knew that it wouldn't be small and that we'd have leftovers for days after. I could hear them nagging at each other, and then making up, over and over as they fought over the kitchen counter. In a sense, their safe place with each other made me feel at ease.

During the constant background sound, I had been in charge of my little brothers who were both now utterly bored of me. Instead, I'd put on Paw Patrol and watched how their little faces turned excited and focused again.

After a while, I headed over to the kitchen.
"Are you sure you don't want any help?", I carefully asked them for the second time as I had heard a pan fall to the ground.
Dad smiled in a mischievous way.
"Controlled chaos, mi Niñita", he explained, referring to our usual thanksgivings. "This is how it's supposed to be"
I rolled my eyes, and sighed.
"Frankie and Seb are watching Paw Patrol. Maybe I can take Tobi out?", I asked them, feeling slightly overwhelmed by a situation.
"Sure! Just be back in an hour", Vanessa said, as she walked past me with a pie in her hands. I nodded, and headed to the living room where Tobi was laying curled up in her dog bed by the sofa.
"Tobi?", I said, my voice high pitched as to ask for her attention. She lifted her ear, and looked up at me, a little suspicious. "Tobi...", I repeated, and now she started to wag her tail. "Do you want to go on a walk?", I asked her, sounding excited. She immediately hopped out of her dog bed and started running towards the front door, looking back at me as if to ask are you coming? while her tail wagged.
I tried to put on her leash, as she spun around in a circle.
"Hey, Tobi, calm down-", I quietly said, as her excitement made me laugh. "There we go", I said as I finally got it hooked on her collar.
She patiently sat down and waited by the door, hopefully looking at me and then at the door knob, while I carefully put on my rusty red coat. It had gotten rather cold lately, and therefore I also added a wooly scarf and matching hat that I had knitted a couple of years back.

I took these moments as a way to distinctly challenge myself as to not do certain routines, like the urge to put on the coat two more times and put my boots on and off when it didn't feel quite right. Instead, I tried to do my best to not do these things and convince myself that it would be alright. Especially after March this year.

Though, when we headed out the door, I locked it four times. It was a routine I couldn't quite get away from, and it gave me some sort of relief before I had to go outside.

For the past couple of weeks, or since I had gone to Benny's Coffee, I had tried to get myself outside at least a couple of times a week. Usually that meant taking Tobi for a walk, because it was an easy task for me to do. If I wanted to challenge myself further, I'd try to go and buy something or walk somewhere new.
But I was already feeling quite overwhelmed from the constant noises at home, that I took my well-known route to the park near our apartment, to then turn back around and take the same way home.
Tobi knew where to go, and led the way for most of the walk.
Sometimes I could feel her pulling on the leash, as she got frustrated with me when my routines were holding me up. But usually she just waited patiently. She knew that this was the way I was, more or less.