text: I hug my parents. They both look at each other astounded. My mother opens her mouth but no words come out. "Mom, I know" I laugh "You've just never acted like this before" My father smiles " I'm 22 now, It's Thanksgiving, I've had a little change in heart" My father pats my back. They both seem afraid I might change my mind. I hear my nieces and nephews chattering. I change my persona. "HEY! Have you guys been thankful?" "Oh yes yes yes" Precious announces as I let her hop on my shoulders. Dion simply nods. Imani latches onto my leg and Dion grabs my other one. I look over at my sister, Olivia. She looks completely exhausted. " You've got an awesome Mom you know!" I speak " The bestest" Imani conceres Olivia mouths the words "Thank you" I shrug my shoulders which causes Precious to start giggling. I walk into the kitchen where my mother is all smiles. She waves at me. "Only 3 hours until dinner so we've got to hurry!" She uses a fake military voice. I pretend to salute. One by one the kids get bored with me and go back into the living room to play. I put the turkey in the oven. I mash the potatoes. All through the day, I am thankful. Thankful I moved on. I used to despise my parents. Not like all teens do. I hated them. My mother is African American. My father is white. I hated them for making me a mixture. In 1987 Rose Valley Elementary school was still very divided. If you were white, That is who you sat with. If you were black, that is who you sat with. If you were mixed? Well, you sat alone. I always thought that was my parent's fault. When I was eleven, I came home sobbing heavily. Once parents found out what was wrong. They told me their story. It was the 1960's. They met in college. My dad needed a belt. Their was a local craft fair. He decided to go. My dad had never really cared much about race so... the fact it was mainly African American didn't bother him. He went up to my mother. She makes leather accessories and jewelry. It started out as a conversation about a belt. It grew into much more. They became Mr. and Mrs. Evans in May of 1966. Blossom and Marcus Evans. I understand how important that story is now. Back then, All they got was... "Love is so overrated, I HATE YOU!" I can barely believe my parents dealt with that so well. I laugh it now. I go into the living room to greet my family. The room is full of color. First I meet my brother's fiance, Jessica. She seems really nice. Her father keeps shouting "We flew in from JAPAN!" There seems to be some sort of traveling distance battle out here. Friendly competition is always welcome in the Evans house. "DETROIT!" "ST. LOUIS" "JAPAN" Jessica's father repeats "MEXICO!" My cousin Jackson shouts before his wife and newest child come in the door. Miguel is the newest addition to our family. Jackson and Sofia's first child. 9 months old. I see more and more people flood in. There are nearly 40 of us. I step back into the kitchen. I find my mother bawling. I change my expression "Mom are you okay?" "Happy tears baby, these are happy tears" I hug her again. She is now laugh-crying. "Oh Symphony, do you know why we named you that?" She strokes my hair. "Because we knew there would be hardship" "But we also knew nothing could stop our family, stop you from becoming a beautiful Symphony." Now she's got me crying. I hold to her and don't let go. Were different. But who wants to be the same anyway? We nearly let the turkey burn. Hugging, Happy-Crying, Feeling love, feeling grateful. I take the turkey out and delicious smells spread across the house. Jessica steps into the kitchen to help. I hear everyone gather at the table. I start taking heaping plates of food out. We have honored everyone's traditions. We have everything from enchiladas to sushi. Everyone seems pleased. I watch everyone grasp one another hands. My mother grabs my hand and squeezes it. I get to pray the blessing. I bow my head. I close my eyes. I can barely gather myself to pray. I'm just so full of joy. I gather myself. Mostly. I am nearly crying the whole prayer. I thank god for my family. The food. Once I'm finished everyone gives me concerned looks. "These are happy tears" I laugh. "Happy enough to eat?" My uncle smirks "Definitely" I respond We chatter. We laugh. We have fun. (Especially Precious). I watch the kids play and come back to steal extra food. I have a brief lapse of wanting to go back. Wanting to be a kid so that I could be as happy as they are. Have moved on sooner. I look down at my hands. I am not sure what race I am. That doesn't make me sad anymore. I return to my happy place. I watch the kids. I watch Jessica making funny faces whenever her father isn't watching. Now that makes me laugh. I step into the kitchen to help my mother clean up. She is washing dishes over the sink. I hear her singing quietly. "You are my sunshine" I sing along "My only sunshine" She harmonizes with me "You make me happy" "When skies are gray" I know that our family is very musical and will sing along if we step into the living room. "You'll never know dear" Everyone sings. I don't even care that half of them are off-key. "How much I love you, please don't take my sunshine" "Away" This makes me feel overwhelming joy. Love and Joy. I am thankful. I am thankful for my family. I am thankful for my friends. I am thankful I got over myself. No matter where anyone sitting here comes from. They are my family. Black or White. Or a mix, just like me. I am thankful for this Beautiful Symphony.