This past weekend was one of the best I’ve had at home as long as my family has lived in the Bay Area. I arrived home on the evening of the 20th. Prior to my arrival air quality in the Bay Area had been up to levels surpassing 300 (air quality is officially unhealthy at 140, breathable air is typically within a sub-50 range), but upon my arrival it had dipped down to 120, the first sub 140 day in weeks. Even more miraculously the rain which followed on Wednesday brought air quality levels down to a very breathable 30 by the time my boyfriend arrived from LA later that evening. I have never once felt any need and/or want to bring anyone home to my family until Sam. In fact, I used to get sick and anxious at the idea. That being, said I’ve also never loved someone so purely and openly. I could not have been happier to introduce Sam to my family. Thanksgiving dinner was filled with so much joy this year. My mother even fell into a memory from a trip last march we she taken to with my aunt to visit me at the family apartment, where I had been living. During their visit, we found ourselves in one of our favorite Italian restaurants in our neighborhood: a small farm to table that lives secretly above an upscale deli through a concealed back staircase. During our dinner, we glowed and giggled off wines and plates, conversing with our waiter who had crafted our order for us and had been teaching us Italian phrases. The phrase of the night became io sono troppo felice, as we were too happy to contain our boisterous laughter. During Thanksgiving dinner, my mother brought up this instance and this phrase. Before she could finish her story my aunt and I both immediately chimed in to this memory turned chorus. Troppo Felice! A perfect microcosm for our Thanksgiving dinner and for the weekend at large.