The note read: “Thanksgiving should be about gratitude, not servitude. I hope today brings you clarity on what truly matters.” With that, I quietly slipped out the door, leaving behind the weight of unappreciated efforts and unending expectations.
As I sat in the backseat of the taxi, watching the familiar streets of our neighborhood fade into the background, I felt a strange mix of liberation and anxiety. Liberation from the shackles of a tradition that had gradually morphed into a personal burden, and anxiety over the uncertain reception my actions would receive. But mostly, I felt a deep sense of relief. For once, I had prioritized my own well-being over the perceptions and demands of others.
At the airport, the pre-dawn hustle and bustle of travelers provided a sense of anonymity and freedom. I was just another person moving through the terminal, unburdened by her usual roles and expectations. As I settled into a seat at the gate, an unexpected wave of peace washed over me. The decision to leave had not come lightly, but it had come necessarily.
