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The aroma of rosemary and turkey roasting filled the house. They celebrated Thanksgiving on the weekend to accommodate in-laws, outlaws and parenting schedules. Great Grandmother's quilts covered the tables. Over the chatter of voices, Kitty continued to listen for his car. Cocktail hour passed, and the hors d'oeuvres disappeared. The ache in her knee wasn't barometric pressure, it was the answer to her prayer about facing reality. He wasn't going to walk through that door.
"Lets hold hands when we say grace." Kitty's eldest Marie put out her small hand.
"Thank you Lord for all our blessings..."
Kitty's blonde hair was scrambled into a knotted bun. She did this to keep it out of the way. After dinner was finished she loosened the rubber band over the sink. A single bubble from the Dawn dish soap floated into her tresses. She could see it in her reflection of the window over the sink.
Iridescent like the beginnings of a tear drop, the bubble remained and did not pop. Kitty made one more wish prayer that he might just show for desert.
When the apple and rhubarb pies were passed Kitty felt as if barbed wire encircled her rib cage. Then something opened her heart. A drift wood log jam down stream broke apart the worry and loss. Here at the table sat those who she adored, and those who loved her back.
"Thank you all for coming. Amen."
