my brother and me a multi-faceted perspective at life.
Thanksgiving holiday was always an easygoing day,fortable and anticipated. It was the first real holiday of the season when everyone came together in one place, and a “durn”good time was had by all.
As the years played out, more of the f***ly passed on and the get-togethers grew smaller and smaller. The gentle melodious tones that once filled the home during the holiday had thinned out. Where the room was once filled with TV trays and long tables, now only one table is set. The food is still great. But the room is more quiet, the mood subdued.
“Care to walk a spell?” My brother asked me after the meal.
“Sure!”
We put our jackets on and stepped outside.
“Which way?” I said.
He shrugged.“Doesn’t matter. Down the road a piece.” He pointed to the left and we took off.
It was a chilly Thanksgiving afternoon, late in the day and the air was hazy with wood smoke. The streets were quiet as we strolled through the neighborhood we once played in. Remembering the f***lies that once lived in certain homes. We passed the field where we dug the earth out and created a fort. The two trees we used for tree houses. The flood control basin where we caught lizards and tadpoles and took our dogs to let them run free. Somewhere in the skeletal trees that lined the sidewalk a Mockingbird sang loud and clear, breaking the solitude.
My brother punched me in the shoulder, the trace of a smile breaking on his face. “Listen at it!”
I shook my head, laughed. We walked on and my eyes filled a bit with tears as I heard the refrain in my head from a room filled with relatives...