I don’t handle awkward silence very well. Maybe it’s because I grew up in a loud New York household where someone was always talking over someone else, kids were darting in and out of rooms, and there was always some sort of chaos buzzing in the background. Quiet just wasn’t part of my upbringing.
So when I find myself at a Thanksgiving table with people I don’t know well, and the only sound is forks scraping plates and polite chewing, my entire brain panics. Suddenly, I’m blurting out whatever fun fact floats to the surface just to fill the space. Sometimes it earns a smile, sometimes a confused stare…