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?