Maybe it’s an age thing, but, with Thanksgiving only a few days away, I find my mind wandering to a few short years ago when the fire was blazing and the grandfathers were in their Thanksgiving chairs. Their chairs are empty now, and it would be easier in the busyness of it all not to pay attention. It’s tempting to make believe I don’t remember, because the remembering is bittersweet. So I have to be careful. I have to be very careful not to miss the feast of memories.
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