This year marks the 15th anniversary of the most distinctive Thanksgiving of my life. In November 2007, my wife and I took our daughters — then ages 5 and 8 — to . . . Disney World. It was the first and only time we made the pilgrimage to Orlando as a foursome, a singular journey with snapshot memories that still dance in the recesses of my brain (and importantly, my heart). So much — so much — has happened to each of us since we enjoyed breakfast at Cinderella’s castle. It has me considering the nature of giving thanks, and how exactly our wishes come true.
I wrote in a journal during our five days of adventure, something one does on a trip, especially when the itinerary includes Fantasyland, Toontown Fair, the Animal Kingdom, and Tomorrowland. “Today we met Chicken Little, Cinderella, Belle, Aurora, Ariel, and Suzy and Perla.”
That was our first day. (Suzy and Perla are a pair of mice loyal to Cinderella. Disney World is home to a supporting cast, too, and they are purely delightful.) My sweet daughters were at precisely the right life stage for this experience. Sofia (8) was very much a believer, bless her. With her own blonde hair (and a fear of dragons), she adored Sleeping Beauty, so getting a gentle hug from Aurora paid for the trip by itself. And Elena (5) was eager beyond her size, not once asking for a stroller. (We saw kids closer to 10 being pushed by parents straining with the burden.)
Upon first sight, Elena — again, 5 years old — insisted on driving the Indy Race Cars. It wasn’t until our fifth and final day that we managed to get behind the wheel and drive those cars. But we did. And sweet Elena glowed with delight. Gratitude is fluid. It changes — hopefully it grows — as we change and grow.
In 2007, my wishes had already come true before I set foot in the Magic Kingdom. I was married to a woman who loved me as much as I loved her. We had two healthy children, vibrant and curious. All the rest, honestly, was details.
During that breakfast in Cinderella’s castle — it’s fun just to write those words — we were asked to close our eyes and each make a wish. I peeked, of course, to watch my daughters actively wishing, wondering what their little/brilliant minds were imagining in that moment. (I know Elena was asking for the keys to one of those Indy Cars.) What they wished for then was different, alas, from what they’d wish for today.
About today. Sofia graduated from college last year and is now teaching preschool in Honolulu. If she didn’t begin wishing for some Hawaiian life at Disney World, it was soon after. Elena is a junior at Saint Louis University, studying health sciences, and bringing the same intensity to a rigorous academic track that she did in walking miles upon miles — at 5 years old — under Florida sunshine.
The Disney princesses my daughters met 15 years ago would surely admire the strong, independent women Sofia and Elena have become, even if they enjoy an apple now and then. (Snow White did not mess around. She actually warned the breakfast guests before each of us went with pancakes.)
My gratitude has changed since 2007. Life isn’t Disney World, and we’ve been hit with some blows, most significantly a worldwide pandemic that changed the way my children entered their 20s, a generational divide we won’t close. (You can empathize with your kids on virtually any trauma they suffer. But don’t try and speak to a teen or young adult about how to manage a world with Covid restrictions. We can’t relate, but we can support.)
Today, I’m grateful for the way my daughters have stared down challenges — real life can be a lot more imposing than dragons — and found pursuits that fuel their inner fire. They are each impacting the world, and every day. As for Disney World, I’m not sure when or if I’ll go back. Perhaps as a grandparent someday. I have little interest in riding Space Mountain, though I wouldn’t mind another handshake with that rascally fox, Robin Hood (still my favorite Disney flick).
I’m forever grateful, though, for spending a Thanksgiving weekend in a world of imagination, at the precise time my family needed to be in such a place. I’ll finish here with my final entry from that journal: “I’ve figured out Walt Disney’s riddle. The dreams — and wishes — we want so much to come true? It’s our children.”