Rootless

I am struck by the passing of time today. Like a nudge to the shoulder, I am reminded that tomorrow is the Sixth Thanksgiving.

Time without you is marked only by holidays now. But Christmas, in its wonderful jingle-jangliness, is a big, colorful distraction. I thank the Holly King for that.

But Thanksgiving…

Thanksgiving. It, more than any other holiday, was You.

I have been a vagabond ever since, wandering from place to place, plate to plate, rootless.

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