The swing went back and forth with a slow harmony. The sun was fading across the horizon as the stars began to twinkle through the leaves. They watched him gaze up, pausing for a moment to admire the full moon. His vibrant blue eyes making contact as he wandered towards them. They looked at each other and smiled. The glimmer they had not seen for so long was back. The supper bell rang across the yard, interrupting the silence reminiscent of every night.
The table was set with the familiar nine places. The smell of the homemade macaroni and cheese filled the kitchen. Small talk continued until everyone was seated. Grandpa looked around. After seeing that everyone was there he bowed his head… God is great God is good and we thank Him for this food. By His goodness we are fed, give us Lord our daily bread, Amen…
Plates were piled high with fresh homemade goodness. Grandma made sure no one walked away from her table hungry. The conversation about the upcoming election died down as Grandma opened the little book she read from each night. The Daily Bread somehow always fit the events of the day. As she read about giving thanks in everything, they all knew how blessed they were to be there.
Homemade pie replaced the empty supper dishes. Warmth and content filled their stomachs. A story being told was given a twist, in hopes of a reaction from Uncle. As he noticed the stillness come over the table, his eyes came up to them staring and waiting. The silence was broken with a laughter that echoed throughout the house. A sound heard each night after the supper bell rang.