Growing up, I always loved my mom’s display of little holiday candles: pilgrims and turkeys on Thanksgiving, choir singers and Santas at Christmas.
I’ve inherited a bit of that collection, and I think of her every year when I set them out.
Maybe it’s just 2020, but this year my brain leaped to a decidedly darker display.
This tragic scene decorates our piano. Seasons spent melting a bit in Mom and Dad’s attic gave the woman the perfect posture for her role. No, I did not behead the pilgrim. That happened in a (perhaps) accidental fall.
I suspect our cat.
Happy Thanksgiving to you and yours.
We’re together in heart.
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