Thanksgiving is a big question mark for me. Don't get me wrong; I love turkey and cranberry sauce. the stuffing( cornbread or bread, depending on what part of the U.S. you happen to celebrate in), and most of all, the desserts! All the desserts! I'm not picky at all!

However, when I think about the history of " The First Thanksgiving," I wonder, Is this a tradition I feel proud to carry on? When these thoughts come, I think about why I celebrate Thanksgiving. I am thankful for my family and friends. a roof over my head and food on the table. I believe we are all thankful for many things in our lives; I believe this is why most of us celebrate Thanksgiving. To remember all we are thankful for. To spend time with family and friends. But the biggest reason is all that delicious food!! Just kidding. :)

Do you believe in fate? How about fate in a name? You don't huh? I'll ask again in a bit to see if I can change your mind.

On August 17th, 1969 a monster hurricane hit the Mississippi coast killing 256 people. Fifty-five years later it's still the second strongest recorded storm in U.S history. Hi, my name is Camille and I was named after a Category five Hurricane.

I enter this story in a small hospital room at the UMMC in Grenada Mississippi. My parents John, and Trudy Howell were young, just starting out in the world, and now they had a new baby girl to look after.

Momma would light up when she told the story of the small, but nice studio apartment we lived in when I first arrived.

She told me how their landlady would bring chocolate chip cookies when she visited. She would stop for a while to hold and dote over me. Momma told me about my naps on a pallet, below the south-facing window of our apartment. The sun coming through the window kept me nice and toasty warm while I slept. Mom and Dad also had a few good friends who would come by from time to time. They brought laughter, good food, and fun to brighten the day.

While they loved their time in Grenada, Dad had been struggling to find a job for weeks before I was born. It was hard going in Grenada for everyone at that time. Jobs were few and far between.

Thankfully, Dad came from a large family in Fort Myers, Florida. Dad's cousin was getting married that September and invited Mom and Dad. Edward, Dad's oldest brother, and his wife had insisted on us staying with them. Edward had lived in Fort Myers for years and knew people who could help Dad get a job. Momma told me what a kind and giving Family they all were and how excited they were for a new start.

When my momma would sit and share stories with me, I could see the memories flicker in and out of her eyes. My Momma is a strong, southern woman, raised up to hide her pain no matter what. But in those moments, I could see pain and sadness in her eyes, as if she were still living in that time and place.

My Momma only has memories left of the small apartment in Mississippi. When we were all together as a happy family, and all I have are stories told to me, of a life I will never know, and a few sepia-toned pictures from long ago.

We pulled into town on September 5th, 1971. Dad had been driving for 14 hours when we arrived at Edward's house. The family was all together again for the wedding and everyone was celebrating. Momma said "Dad didn't have a whole lot to drink", but the drinks and the sleep deprivation made for a bad situation. Dad came and sat on the bed by me and Momma that night and told her he was dizzy and not feeling so well. She had tried to get him to lie down, but he said he would be fine if he could just go out for some fresh air.

The first night after arriving in Fort Myers, the phone rang, changing the trajectory of our lives forever. The police informed my Mom; that Dad had been crossing a road when he was hit by a car. It looked as if he had died on contact. Small blessing I guess. Momma was left devastated, with a baby girl in a house full of people she barely knew.

Momma said for a while afterward I would sit on her lap and wait for my dad to come home. I was irritable, and I had stopped eating. Babies know when someone they love has vanished from their lives. Sadly time is a thief, and soon I moved on, stopped waiting, and started eating again.

I often wonder what life would have been like if my dad had lived. I know I inherited his wavy hair and his chin. But that and a few old pictures, are all that's left of a life story that fate or chance took from me. I can still feel that piece of my heart that died that day. I'm not sure how. I have no memories of my Dad, yet there is still an empty space inside of me where my dad once lived. I visited my dad's grave after I was married. It was my first time seeing the cemetery that held my Dad and the grave where he lay. I cried like I had lost him only yesterday.

After the funeral, we said goodbye to Dad's family and moved to Atmore Alabama where my grandma and Momma's relatives lived. Momma never forgot Dad's family. She wrote letters about how I was and what I was doing, She would also send them pictures of me through the years.

After a couple of years, my momma remarried my new dad Robert. He was a great dad to me through the years. He is also gone now but boy was I lucky to have him. But that's another chapter in my life you will read about if you stick around.

So, have I changed your mind about fate? Do you think my name set a precedent for my life? This is just the very beginning of a long life. I have many other stories that may change your mind and make you look at your world differently.

Ride along with me Chapter after chapter. You will sit beside me on a branch of a fig tree eating freshly picked fruit on a hot sticky morning in Alabama.

You will ride shotgun through hurricanes and be haunted by the haints that lived in my grandma's house. You will bear witness to a life of much laughter and sorrow. A life I would live again to embrace the people and memories of a time so long ago.

The smell of her hair,

the seduction of her eyes,

intoxicate me.

Softness that relaxes her face when love washes over it,

hits the heart like a wave not seen coming.

The pain of her pain.

The sadness of her sadness.

Moves past barriers exhaustingly built.

Past ego and self.

To fix,

to free,

all hurts caused by love and love forgotten.

My wish, my torture.

Love beyond ego of self,

beyond all hurt of loss.

Love that crumbles walls built with steel, stone and time.

The love I have for her.

What is your very first memory of falling in love?

Who was the person you most wanted to be when you grew up?

What song brings you back to your best times?

What did you grandma teach you that you also taught your kids?