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Turkey day approacheth. The 2/3 of children will be coming. The oldest not. I will cook. I will clean. The children will say things I don't understand. Huh I will say. Then they will leave the next day. throw all the leftovers away. I can't make pie crust like you. my children are nearly strangers. They remind me of you. That I was a bad husband, a bad father. loser.

Still I dream. You are there. I say things to you. I touch you. But you don't look at me or speak. You just get up from the sofa and leave with someone you knew from high school. I sit there on the sofa and wait for you to return. But you don't and then I wake.

It's life or what is left of it. Happy thanksgiving

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