Thanksgiving Togetherness

Frank poured steel for forty-five years. Now, at 79, he lived alone in

a quiet house outside Pittsburgh. His wife Maria had been gone six years. This Thanksgiving,

his son Mike in Chicago said a blizzard kept them home. "You're going to Sarah's,

right, Dad?" Mike asked. Sarah, an ER nurse in town,

called next. "Double shift, Dad. I'm sorry. But you're with

Mike and the kids?" Frank looked at the empty driveway and said yes to both.

It was easier than begging. Thanksgiving Day came. The house stayed

cold and silent. Frank set the table for one. He reached for Maria's old turkey platter