I sit down and look around the table.  There are my parents.  There, my former mother-in-law.  There are my high school principal and my sophomore English teacher – what a tyrant she was!  And finally, with the smile of a pixie, a small Wisconsin farm woman.

These six, all gone now, are alive on every page, in every word I write.  They are in the soldier trudging home, the holiday conga line, in the chickadee-clipse, in the northern lights and African veld.

Tomorrow Donna and I head out on a Western adventure.  I wonder about the people we’ll meet – who sits around their table?   Won’t you come join us?