There was plenty of work to do once we were home. Mama was sewing muslin sheets and pillow cases for Mrs. Beamer. A stack of clothes was waiting for Margaret and me to iron. Margaret had to iron all the dresses and shirts. I had to iron the overalls and dish towels. It was late when we finished but at least we had no homework that evening.

Uncle Cyrus did not find the feather mattress that he wanted. He had to be satisfied with a stuffed one, even though it was lumpy. He put the mattress in the attic. Then he brought his luggage in – an old metal locker filled with his clothes. He pushed the thing up the ladder –stairs into the attic. He still had to build the wood base to put the mattress on and a clothes rack to hang up his wraps.

"Good enough," the old man said. No visitor will be snooping around up here anyway.

We had a late supper and were too tired to be up late that night but my uncle remembered the hole in my shoe.

Take off your shoe, lassie," he said.

Uncle Cyrus took the old inner tube from under the car seat and cut it with leather – cutting shears. He marked the outlines of the shoe on the inner tube rubber with chalk. Then he opened a tube of adhesive which smelled awful.

"Leave it a while," he said. "Now you don’t have a hole in your shoe.

The days were shorter now and the very cold weather of winter had come. Mama made extra quilts from old coats and men'’ pants that friends had given to her. The quilts were wooly warm and kept out the chill quite well. Mama showed Margaret how to connect the pieces and with bright red thread to embroider the feather stitching which gave the quilt an attractive cozy look.

It was good that Uncle Cyrus came to stay because more and more wood was needed for the fire. He helped my brothers find tree limbs in the woods near by and he chopped a lot of wood. I often wondered how we would have gotten along without his help with Papa being gone.

Surely the best time of day for all of us was the hour before bed time when we gathered before the fire and our uncle taught us many songs to sing. And we made up some of the songs, each one adding a line to rhyme. At times I felt guilty because we had so much fun and Papa wasn’t there to enjoy our fellowship.

Mama never sang much unless we were singing a hymn. She often had that far-away look in her eyes and we all knew she was thinking of Papa and wondering what he was doing.

Sometimes the terrible thought that he may not be alive entered my mind, but I brushed such thinking aside. Any day now he would return and take each one of us in his arms.

There were evenings when we did not sing. Uncle Cyrus would play checkers with anyone who wanted to try to beat him. None of us ever won a game with him except Terry and Pledge each won a game. I wondered if our uncle just let them win because Margaret nor I had won any games that we played with him.

It was a night after playing checkers and we had all gone to bed and were asleep that an unearthly scream awoke us. It was so shrill that I shook all over. It was Marcella sleeping next to me. Every one in the house was now awake and came quickly to our room except our uncle.

Mama shook Marcella to wake her and stop the screaming.

Marcella was so scared. She looked at all of us with eyes full of fear.

"Darling, you’ve had a nightmare," said Mama.

"What’s a nightmare?" asked Mac, still rubbing his eyes.

"It is a very bad dream," answered our mother.

Uncle Cyrus appeared in the door way after climbing down the ladder stairway.

"Little princess, what have you dreamed?" said he.

"I – I – I dreamed that Papa got into a car and he yelled at us and said that he was never coming back because he did not like us anymore."

"Be glad, dear," Uncle Cyrus said, comforting Marcella, "That it is only a dream".

Marcella calmed down and Mama let us leave the light on in our room so Marcella would not be afraid.

Halloween came and went without much to remember that took place. Mama said she felt there was something evil about people turning over the outdoor toilets and throwing eggs at houses when the eggs could be eaten. The only thing we heard on Halloween night were teenagers walking on empty cans.

Saturdays were busy days but sometimes Mama let Margaret and I slip off to Aunt Beulah’s house to borrow books to read on Sunday afternoon. We like to go there because Cousin Jane most always had something sweet to offer us – gingerbread, chocolate cookie or muffin. It sure was nice having blood-kin in our town.

It was near Thanksgiving Day and I was wondering if Mama would do anything special like bake pumpkin pies or cook a ham. When Papa was home we always had something out of the ordinary. He would buy a big roast, sometimes pork, sometimes beef. It was something to look forward to. I liked the pork roast best. He always bought a big orange pumpkin the week before Thanksgiving. Last year I scraped out all the seeds and Mama cut off the rinds and cooked the pumpkin in her biggest stew pot. This was enough pumpkin for five pies. The pies were delicious.

Papa helped us pull taffy on that day. We cut the molasses candy into small pieces. He was lots of fun, teasing us as we worked.

"This Thanksgiving will be dreary," I said to my great uncle.

"Don’t be so gloomy, child," said he. "Something nice may happen. And smile for your Mama. She needs your smile."

"I’ll try," sighing as I spoke.

The days passed. I couldn’t shake off that feeling of wanting Papa home, not next year but now. It was so intense. One day I ran outside away from everyone and screamed to the top of my lungs, "Papa, come home! Papa, come home!" Of course he did not come. He couldn’t hear me, but I got that awful weight out of my mind and decided to make the most of every day without him.

In the afternoon on Sunday before Thanksgiving Aunt Beulah and Cousin Jane came to visit. It was always good to see them. They brought cracker jacks and balloons. We children tried to see who could blow up the biggest balloon and Margaret was the winner. Then her long yellow balloon popped. We all played games with the relatives.

Before our guest left Aunt Beulah invited everyone to her house for Thanksgiving Day dinner.

"Are you sure?" asked Mama. "There are so many of us."

"Of course," she replied. "I have a long table. We will fit nicely around it."

Mama hugged Aunt Beulah and Cousin Jane and we all waved goodbye.

"Isn’t that nice?" said Mama after they left, "For Aunt Beulah to ask us to dinner next Thursday."

"Sure is," I replied.

"We must all wear our Sunday outfits that day," Mama said, "Because it is a special time to thank God for all his blessings to us."

"But Papa hasn’t come home," I complained, "Why should we be so thankful?"

"We can thank God for taking care of Papa wherever he is," returned Mama.

I wasn’t sure that I had a Papa anymore. Maybe something awful happened I was thinking but didn’t tell that to my mother.

Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday seemed to pass slowly for me because I was looking forward to a great meal on Thursday.

Finally, Thanksgiving Day arrived. We were all up early getting our chores done. Margaret did some ironing while I cleaned the house. Mama had some sewing to finish for one of the ladies that went to our church. Uncle Cyrus decided to help Pledge with his paper route. Terry and Marcella washed the breakfast dishes. Mac went on the back porch to polish shoes so he wouldn’t mess up the floor in the house.

Just before 12 o’clock noon we all climbed into Uncle Cyrus’ car. We sure were crowded but it didn’t take long to reach Aunt Beulah’s house.

When we walked in the door such wonderful aromas hit us, the smell of spices, bread baking and turkey stuffing.

Cousin Jane hugged each one of us and welcomed us to their home. It was such a happy feeling coming here to the house on top of the hill. I was glad that she and Aunt Beulah were our relatives. They were so nice – the best.

After Cousin Jane had collected our wraps and put them across a beautiful 4 poster bed, we all sat on the davenport and chairs in the parlor. Then our cousin brought out the picture album. We laughed at the funny way people dressed a long time ago. We were having so much fun that in hardly any time it seemed Aunt Beulah called us to come into the dining room to eat.

Uncle Cyrus sat at one end of the very long table and Aunt Beulah sat on the other end. She asked our uncle to say grace.

He prayed: "O Lord most high, we truly are thankful for the food we are about to receive and all the mercy you have shown us this year. Bless those who are not as blessed as we are and take care of the children’s father wherever he is. Amen."

We never ever forgot about Papa. Surely God was looking out for him because we prayed for him so much.

My thoughts of Papa faded for the time being when I looked at the feast on the long table. I had never seen so much food at one time. On top of the white cloth covered table were two big platters filled with turkey. Near by was a big pan of turkey dressing and two gravy bowls. There were stacks and stacks of corn bread and light rolls. Bowls were filled to the brim with green beans, baked beans, baked corn and sweet potatoes. Tomatoes and cranberries added to the colorful layout of food and yes there was a pickle dish filled with tiny pickles.

The crystal goblets filled with water sparkled in the light of two candles burning. The silverware laid out on white linen glistened by the china plates edged in gold.

Heaven must be like this I thought and Margaret whispered, "Have you ever seen such a grand table spread?"

"Never," I replied.

"Beulah, you do put out a beautiful table of provisions," remarked Uncle Cyrus with a gleam in his eyes.

I could see that my great uncle was terribly fond of Aunt Beulah but she never showed him any special attention. She was kind to everyone.

We were enjoying this wonderful meal when suddenly Marcella knocked the crystal goblet, she was drinking from, off the table and it broke into several pieces.

I bit my lower lip and was afraid for her because I knew the goblets were expensive.

"Honey, why aren’t you more careful?" said Mama.

Mama was embarrassed. Marcella was embarrassed and began to cry. She ran from the dining room into the parlor and began to sob, her tears flowing fast.

Aunt Beulah didn’t want the accident to spoil everyone’s meal. Even though the goblets were cherished as her long ago wedding gift, she said, "Sweetie, don’t cry, the goblets are only glass. I can get another one."

It took a few minutes to console Marcella and get her back to the dining table where everyone there was enjoying the delicious food.

When everyone had finished eating, Margaret insisted on helping Aunt Beulah and Cousin Jane clear the table and wash the dishes. It wasn’t very long until they were in the parlor with the rest of us.

"Let’s sing," suggested my brother Pledge.

"Great idea," agreed Aunt Beulah. "Come gather around the piano."

We sang so many, many songs like – She’ll be comin’ round the mountain, Life’s Railway to Heaven, America, Down by the Old Mill Stream, The Old Rugged Cross, and Let me Call You Sweetheart. I saw tears in Mama’s eyes when we were singing Let Me Call you Sweetheart but she quickly brushed them away.

After our voices were tired we just sat around and talked. We learned things about our hill-top relatives. Aunt Beulah had worked for the Red Cross in World War I. Her little boy had died with the croup at the age of three.

We all enjoyed the afternoon. It turned out to be a special holiday for us. Even Marcella had a good time after she calmed down from breaking the goblet. When we were about to leave Cousin Jane gave Mama a pan of turkey stuffing and rolls wrapped in a white tea towel with red & blue embroidered cups on it.

"Keep the towel, dear," she said to Mama. "I have others like it."

"You are so kind," returned Mama. "Thank you for the towel, this food and a good day."

At home again we didn’t find much work that had to be done. I gathered a few eggs. The hens were not laying much at this time of the year. Then Margaret and I played checkers. Marcella played with her doll. The boys played outside. Mama sat down to hem a dress for her friend. Uncle Cyrus read the newspaper. The house was unusually quiet.

When it was too dark to play out, my brothers came in and warmed their hands by the fire. Mama went to the kitchen and put supper on the table. She made tea for all of us to enjoy with the food Cousin Jane had given us.

After supper we all went to bed early.