The table was cleared last night and all the leftovers were put away– today they are nearly gone. Three loads of dishes were done, and the last of the fancy glasses were put back on the shelf, upside down so they won’t collect dust until the next time they are used, next November. The white… Continue reading My Little Dog Jack
Tag: Father
My Father’s Hands
I never gave my hands much thought until a few years ago. They were never pretty, but they were functional serviceable hands that did what they were asked—I could examine a patient, type fast and accurately enough, and everyone always told me that my handwriting was outstanding. That has always been a point of pride… Continue reading My Father’s Hands