My wife and daughter spent the week of Thanksgiving visiting my wife’s family in Texas and Louisiana.
I stayed at the house with little Jobu because I really didn’t want to board him for a week, plus I think if there is any living creature who would not heed the “Don’t mess with Texas” warning, it’s Jobu. He messes with everyone.
I didn’t go into the week with any trepidation. I’ve watched enough survival shows to know the human body can go a week without proper nutrition.
The first few days were without excitement of any sort. But Tuesday morning, I woke up completely filled with either anxiety or depression, or both. I don’t know exactly what it was, but I know it was bad.
I don’t know if I’ve ever hit “rock bottom,” as I assume that’s only a place you can recognize, looking back on your life, on your way out of this world. But I’ve been in some pretty low places with some pretty hard surfaces before, and this was one of those.
It was so bad that I reached out to a couple of my best friends to let them know that I wasn’t in a good spot. That’s something I’ve ever done before.
I often write about how lucky I am to have the circle of friends that I have. And I am old enough to know that one rainy day does not a summer ruin. But the way my friends reacted to me waking up to a rainy day 100 percent reaffirmed that I do not write fiction. I write nonfiction. My friends really are the best people on earth.
Thanks to my circle doing what my circle does, the rain eventually subsided and I got back to my proverbial summer … on Thanksgiving Week.
I had planned on spending Thanksgiving with a buddy of mine and his family since my wife planned the trip. He’s the second best cook I know, and he wasn’t celebrating Thanksgiving in Houston, so I was in good hands.
The amount of people who invited me to their Thanksgiving gatherings was nothing short of astounding. All the way up to Thursday morning I had calls from people making sure I had somewhere to go.
I know I have the best friends a guy could ask for. I am well on record with that. But when you see it played out twice in a few days’ span, it really makes you thankful for the path you led in life that led you to the people in your life.
Next time my family decides on a trip like this, Jobu is either going to be down at Georgia Canine or he’s going to be “messing with Texas.”
Sgt. Toby Nix is a local writer, guitarist and public information officer for the Coweta County Sheriff’s Office. He is the author of two books, “Columns I Wrote” and “A Book I Wrote.” He can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org .