Thanksgiving

This time last year I was sitting at a bookstore in Los Angeles, looking at an Annie Leibovitz book. (Which, admittedly, was incredible.) I was huddled in Barnes and Noble because the house in which I was staying was meat locker-cold, and all my Los Angeles friends were off living their Los Angeles lives without me. So I went to Barnes and Noble to try and pretend like I was having a good time all alone the night before Thanksgiving.

Tonight I walked through my beautiful, glamorous, shiny town that feels like my own personal promised land, cheeks chilled by the cold breeze blowing down 10th Street, fat yellow leaves making a saffron carpet underneath my sparkling sequined sneakers, shaking my shoulders and mouthing the words to the happy Simon and Garfunkle in my ears. I hugged my wide cream scarf tighter around my shoulders, and smiled at a doorman inside his glowy post. This beautiful town will be home for my first ever East Coast/ New York Thanksgiving, and oh how I have so much to be thankful for.

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