Memories Made from Another Place…

CampfireThere was never a better place to be dead than at Aunt Jeanie’s three bedroom Chicago bungalow on Christmas. Early morning, a few disheveled and sleepy children bumped into unforgiving walls and closely spaced furniture as they searched for a bathroom, kitchen, and a spot closer to an over-sized tree in the family room. By afternoon, exhausted parents grabbed any available bottle of wine. And when the evening stars cast tiny gems of light on a crisp outdoor snow, Tim’s ghost watched the old folks huddle around a roaring fireplace, toast to future never-will-bes, and sing about better times that happened many years ago.

-M. Duda

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