Today, as I dried off the silverware and glasses and porcelain and corningware, I found myself not focusing on my family in the room. When I see my grandmother glowing with her daughters and grand-daughters around the island radiating with the heat of the golden-brown turkey, guilt overwhelms me, because I would never change anything about my family.
Sometimes I wonder how my life would be different if my grandfather had lived to see me. Please don't get me wrong, I fear the thought of penning a sob story, but I do wonder about him. As I wiped the moisture from a tarnished silver butter dish, I imagined my grandfather having touched the gleaming new silver 56 years before me. Instead of seeing an antique-looking face his visage would have been as clear as his reflection in a mirror. Maybe my children's children will have the same experience when I retire to my eternal slumber, I don't know, just a thought.
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