When A Memory Is All That's Left-JK Nick Nichols

Ten miles out of Knoxville. One hand on the steering wheel. The other thumbing

through the radio. When something caught my eye. On a grassy hill by the

roadside. That slowed my errant speed to a crawl. A white wooden

cross. A family gathered round. Mama and her three little girls.

And a Christmas wreath for all the world to see. But how many

passersby really know? There'll be one less plate at a table

for five. And one less present someone has to buy.

But at that moment in time, I couldn't help but cry. 'Cause I know