I spent Thanksgiving morning in the crisp, cool air characteristic of Bournemouth in late November with a hot pumpkin-spiced latte in hand and the sun beating down on me. I’m accustomed to starting this day at a packed charity-sponsored 5k, but today I ran my own Turkey Trot at a park in Bournemouth and enjoyed the quiet of what was, to everyone else, just another morning. Last year was my first Thanksgiving away from family, and this is my first abroad, but I feel more grateful than ever when I reflect on all the changes that twelve months have brought—I’m in a much better place than I was this time last year. 

I felt that gratitude most deeply at The Story Work’s first-ever Christmas social, hosted at a sleek new coworking space in town center. Since learning that we could use the space for free, I thought it would be nice to organize a gathering for our volunteers and supporters to celebrate what we’ve accomplished in 2024 and lay out our goals for 2025. I’d forgotten how much I love event planning—from budgeting to playlist curating to hanging up posters around town, everything about creating a community event is life-giving. The event itself went even better than anticipated; we had over thirty attendees, several of whom came simply from seeing the event on Eventbrite. I delivered a fifteen minute presentation about The Story Works, and I felt so much joy as I surveyed the room of passionate and kind friends, each of whom has been impacted by our work. Better yet, my family was in town to visit, and they got a glimpse into what it is I do and who I interact with. Above all, I felt proud of the work that both the charity has done and I have done—this event and several of the accomplishments highlighted wouldn’t have existed without me, and after a period of feeling unproductive, I felt the weight of what I’d contributed. 

As I mentioned previously, my family visited in early December! My mom, dad, brother, and soon-to-be sister-in-law flew from Indianapolis to spend ten days traveling around the UK. We walked through the Christmas-lit streets of London, shopped for Scottish knitwear on the Royal Mile in Edinburgh, and toured the breathtaking Corfe Castle and surrounding village in Dorset. It was so special to see them and to share my life here with them. 

The weekend before, my friend Eleri came over from Belfast to visit me in Bournemouth. On her first night here we prepared a classic Thanksgiving meal (honey and soy-glazed salmon, rosemary-parmesan mashed potatoes, roasted butternut squash and brussel sprouts, pumpkin pie), and the rest of the weekend was spent traveling to Oxford and Bath. Whenever I hang out with Eleri, I know we’ll have a long string of bits by the end of our time together. From reviewing bad coffee to writing silly poetry to making acronyms out of our names (the E in Elisabeth stands for Eggs, scrambled), any time spent with Eleri is a good time. 

There was a moment when Eleri first arrived in Bournemouth that stands out in my memory: we were approaching the pier, and it was the most spectacular day—the air was crisp but not biting, the sun shone down with a twinkle on the water, and the waves crashed mightily onto the shore. I looked at Eleri knowingly, she looked at me, and we busted out laughing. For the past few months I’d half-jokingly referred to Bournemourth as a dump (the B in Bournemouth is for Boring and Bad), but I knew then and there that this was not the full or even half the truth. Bournemouth is a beautiful place with its own unique strengths, and I’m fortunate to live here in this time of life. 

Sincerely,

Elisabeth x