Some things I missed

I missed seeing my father walking up our front walk this Thanksgiving his arms loaded down with boxes and bags of food and drink. He would have smiled an kissed me on the cheek, noticed that most of the leaves had been raked, pulled my daughter in for a big hug. "Nice job," he would have told my husband who orchestrates the meal. I missed seeing him sitting at the table, a leg bone wrapped in dark meat on his plate along with stuffing, mashed potatoes, green beans, and the eggplant and Italian bread that he buys special in East Boston. He would test the chestnuts, along with Uncle, to make sure they were done - just like his father before him had done. I missed seeing him dunk hard cookies into the coffee with his overstuffed hands. He might have apple pie with vanilla ice-cream too before sitting in the large easy chair for a snooze. E would have insisted on a game of chess. He would have been kind to all the children. He would have worn a light cotton shirt, blue, underneath a button up wool sweater and soft soled walking shoes with white socks that he favored in his older age. I missed hearing his voice.