Widow’s Supper
I silently opened my back door and stepped in. The rich, delicious smell of roast beef filled the air. Stopping a moment to enjoy the scent of home and family, I glanced around. There were fourteen shoes of varying sizes scattered about on the long entryway rug.
Stepping over and around the shoes, I slowly opened the dining room door, thinking that perhaps I’d surprise my grandchildren. I found two-year-old Gemma standing near the table, looking at a small plastic figurine in her hand. Seeing me didn’t seem to surprise her. I guessed she expected me to be there and so there I was. She came for a hug. Continue reading