I canceled because the weekend had been organized under my name,
charged to my card, and built around the idea that I was hosting a family celebration.
I no longer felt comfortable hosting it.
The lodge cancellation came first.
The manager, a woman named Denise, sounded surprised.
“Everything okay?”
“Change of plans.”
Because I had purchased cancellation protection,
most of the payment would be returned.
The catering company allowed cancellation until Saturday afternoon.
Done.
The vans?
Canceled.
Photographer?
Canceled.
Horseback riding?
Canceled.
Grocery order?
Canceled.
Wine package?
Canceled.
Then I opened the family group chat.
Thirty-seven unread messages.
Most were photographs from Mom’s house.
Amanda’s teenagers eating pizza.
Mom arranging Thanksgiving decorations.
My uncle asking what time the vans would arrive Sunday.
Nobody had asked where my children were.
Not one person.
I typed a message.
Then deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
Finally,
I wrote:
“Change of plans for me and the kids.
We won’t be joining the Hocking Hills weekend.
Please make your own arrangemenTS. Hope everyone has a safe Thanksgiving.”
Send.
I turned off notifications.
