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The misty late autumn evening chilled me to the bone, but it didn’t bother me as I knelt on the ground, the only light coming from my lantern shining next to me.

Hello, my family of blood, I thought in my head, running my hand across the cold, damp, ground, sacred to my people for thousands of years. I still honor you. I still remember you. And as I sat in the dark woods, I felt the thousands of years speaking to me, in our ancient Wampanoag language.

I loved my adopted “family,” but never felt as though they understood. Out here, on this sacred ground, in these forests and shores, is where I felt safe. Not in Noreen’s cathedral with the Holy Mass and the Communion (the actual body and blood of someone?) nor shivering in a cold, somber meeting house singing hymns with strange, solemn names such as “Chester” and “Amity.” As serious as my situation was, I chuckled, remembering Mercy bitching about spending her whole childhood freezing her ass off every Sunday on the benches of the latter. Deep down inside, however, I knew that she was as proud to be Puritan as Noreen was to be Catholic.

As I knelt on the ground, not minding the cold, damp New England air – why should I? It was the air of my people – my thoughts were suddenly interrupted by the rustling of leaves, and the glow of another lantern behind me. “Kai?”

I turned around, and a tall, pretty, young woman, dressed in the somewhat traditional dark indigo clothes of her faith, stood before me, the lantern light illuminating her pale skin and stunning blue eyes. And of course, the winged skull that always dangled around her neck…the trademark of her faith…the Death’s-head.

As much as I wanted to be alone, I smiled at the young woman that was more or less like my older sister, as was her dear girlfriend, Noreen. My people, unlike Mercy and Noreen’s, had never frowned upon same-sex relationships, as a matter of fact, we tended to respect them, “two-spirited” relationships. I had never told anyone, but there were times that I had caught myself glancing at Noreen’s brother, Kelly. Once or twice, I thought that I had caught him looking back at me. Could it be…? Well if an Irish Catholic girl and an English Puritan girl could end up together…why couldn’t I, a Wampanoag boy, be attracted to said Irish Catholic girl’s brother?      

Anyway, though. I stepped up to her and hugged her gently, feeling her heart beating. “Happy Thanksgiving, Mercy. Where’s Noreen?”

Mercy groaned, yet good naturedly, rolling her blue eyes. “Oh, Adam’s bloody fall, she’s drunk already.” I couldn’t help but giggle. I knew that later on, Mercy would be breaking into the drinks herself. “And don’t even get me started on Kelly.”

“Oh! I was wondering about Kelly”-I stopped myself just in time. I shouldn’t have bothered, however. “Hush, lad. I’ve seen the way that you look at him. If it matters, Noreen thinks that he’s sweet on you as well.” I groaned. “Mercy…” I loved the playfulness that she hid under her customary solemness.

But that customary solemness was starting to come back. She sat down on the ground, pushing back her long brown hair. “I thought I might find you out here.”

I didn’t say anything. Did she understand? But she was speaking again, in her clipped accent. “Kai, I know.”

I sat on the ground next to her. I truly did love her like a big sister. “You honor your ancestors on this night, do you not?”

“I do,” I told her, tracing my fingers in the dirt.

She was silent. “We fled Old England for New to practice our faith without the Church of England persecuting us. But over time…most of us became the persecutors ourselves.” She paused. “Bloody hell.”

I spoke up, voicing my honest opinion. “Mercy, I don’t agree with a lot of your faith. But I truly do admire your people’s courage. Your people risked everything to flee England to come here, to practice your faith on these wild shores.” I paused. “I have to say, I really do like a lot of the hymns that I’ve heard you sing. They really do sound pretty.”

“They’ve always calmed me,” she admitted. “You’d think that I’d associate them with you know, freezing my ass off in the meeting house all Sunday long. But no…”

I softly started to hum what I knew was one of her favorites. “Let tyrants shake their iron rods…” “Chester. Why do your hymns have such strange names?”

She laughed softly. “Don’t ask me why. They’re given the names of places back in the Old Country, and more often than not have nothing to do with the words.”

We sat in silence for a moment longer. “Kai, I know that this land is sacred to your people.”

“Really, it’s sacred to your people as well,” I told her.

“Not like it is to yours,” she answered me. “We have our meeting houses. You have these woods and these shores. Your people know New England far better than my people ever will.” In the light of the lanterns, her Death’s-head glittered at her throat. Seeing it, I reached up to touch my piece of wampum, the abalone shell that I always wore. Mercy noticed and gave me a knowing smile.

“It’s getting wicked cold out here. I’m going to go back and see if Noreen’s passed out yet or not,” she told me, rising up from the ground.

“It is wicked cold out here,” I said, playfully mocking her speech. “I’ll come with you?”

In the dim light, she smiled mischievously. “Oh? Are you really cold? Or do you just want to see Kelly?”

I groaned and punched her lightly. “I’m sure he’ll be happy to see you,” she told me.

We made our way back to the big house where we stayed. Stepping into the foyer, Mercy’s gray cat raced up to us. “Meow!” she cried. Laughing, I scooped her up.

As we stepped into the sitting room, Noreen rose up joyfully. “Mercy! Jesus, Mary and Joseph, I was wondering where ya were, A chuisle!” Yep. She had indeed had a few already. Mercy gave her good-natured groan and shot back something at Noreen that had to do with New England’s God of the bloody Bay Colony. Oh, Mercy. You’re not fooling anyone. By the end of the night you’ll be just as drunk as your girlfriend. Noreen’s green eyes met my brown ones and we giggled together. She knew the exact same thing. Noreen motioned me forward, and I stepped over to her.

“Kelly’s in the kitchen. He wondered where ya were,” she whispered, and with that, she shoved me in the direction of the kitchen. “Damn it, Noreen O’Dowd!” I growled at her, but she just laughed, and so did Mercy.

Know what? I loved my blood family, whose land, Massachusetts, that I would always honor, the last Thursday in November and always…

And my adopted family as well!