No one has arrived on a gust of wind against the door. The turkey sizzles impatiently and whispers aromas to mix with pumpkin pie and sweet potatoes. Steam seeps into still air and disappears. The house holds empty words, separated from family who appear only on holidays. Preparation of food, the only task, fills time. Now done, only the wait remains, with its slow stiffening and the worry that there is enough to eat to keep mouths busy. Too full for words to start that impart more reason that no one will return again for yet another year, I search the cupboards for something else to cook. Reprinted with permission from Banyan Review Copyright © Summer 2006 by Richard Dinges Jr

Bibliography Commentary Buy a Book Richard Dinges Jr's Page Writers On-Line

Return to The Rock

Nebraska Center for Writers