Spirit Stories: In Your Own Words

At a wooden table in the backyard under a shady oak, sit female generations of our family. It is not often we are afforded this opportunity of communion and fellowship. Another year passed, another child on the way. A smile is donned over hot pieces of chicken. Flour biscuits, mashed potatoes, and brown gravy: necessities for our table. Our plates are patient, ready for our service. Grandma is laughing, Mother is whispering, my contented expression is showing, my daughter is bouncing. And suddenly I realize from each woman to another, we become her.