Last year, I was in San Diego, blissfully unaware it was Thanksgiving. Alone in the living room, the only thing on my mind was Black Friday. I snagged a Dyson Airwrap, thanks to a sweet deal.
Just look at how the colors embody me? I thought of joining my friend in LA, but I declined.
I thought I was fine—until I realised I missed something more important than a festive meal.
This year was different.
Today, I celebrated my first real Thanksgiving with family I just met in New Jersey.
It wasn’t just a meal; it was an experience.
We shared a traditional American Thanksgiving feast: ham, turkey, potatoes, gravy, sprouts, mac’n’cheese and cranberry sauce.
But the real feast?
The storytelling.
As their only guest, I was in awe.
Their stories were rich with emotion, laced with humour, and filled with playful teasing.
Every anecdote was a performance—expressions, gestures, voices. I was captivated.
Their storytelling felt effortless, and I was thoroughly impressed.
Then it happened.
“Abie, tell us your story”
I froze. “Me?”
“Yess, tell us how you are now.”’
Boom. I wasn’t prepared for that. But there I was, eyes on me. No escape.
“Ok.. let’s try.”
I began hesitantly, but something shifted. The more I spoke, the more natural it felt. Nerves slowly melted away. I tried my best adjusting my tone and accent to fit the room—challenging but fulfilling.
Suddenly, I was part of the rhythm of that table, weaving my own story into theirs.
Reflecting on it now, I realise all those journaling and 1on1 conversations I’d had while traveling had prepared me for this moment.
Every retelling sharpened the edges of my story. And tonight?
This was my best version yet. (& I know I can still make it better)
Their energy lifted mine. I must have absorbed their flair for storytelling—no “um’s”, no awkward pauses. I just flowed.
At one point, I paused, and Ate Princess leaned in, saying
“Please, continue.”
I knew she was hooked.
For the first time, I didn’t just tell a story—I owned it.
And in that moment, something powerful happened. I felt that shift.
I was no longer a guest at their table. I was family.
Storytelling isn’t just sharing words; it’s creating connections.
Tonight, I experienced firsthand how a story can break barriers and build bonds.
Truly, storytelling is a super power.
We kept the conversation rolling with delicious sweets—French macarons and blueberry chiffon cake that tasted heaven.
Between stories and sugar rushes, they offered tips for my next destination, which I am grateful.
Then, we finished off with Tita Tutay’s
Surprise gifts
The rules were simple: based on the number we picked, we’d receive a gift.
I had lucky #7—my favorite number (next to 17, of course).
Gift #1 was revealed: a pouch. Cute, but I was aiming higher.
Gift #2: a Tory Burch Pink wallet.
Okay, not bad. If this was the best gift, I could make it work… though I hoped it would match my aesthetic.
.. then Gift #7 was called.
There it was—a brown, matte-finished wallet, perfectly matching my vibe.
Elegant, timeless, and effortlessly aligned with my aesthetic. I’ve been into earthy tones and nudes lately.
I placed it next to my phone and just like that—boom—destiny.
Maybe it was coincidence, or maybe I’m better at manifesting than I thought.
Either way, I felt like I’d unlocked some cosmic storytelling-manifestation combo.
This night? Unforgettable. Not just for the food, the gifts, or even the stories—but for the magic of connection, laughter, and a bit of manifestation thrown in for good measure.
I want more moments like this 😀
