Aunt D is a saint. A generous soul with a kind heart and a desire to throw her arms around her entire family and pull them close for a never-ending hug. My memories of visiting Aunt D stretch back to my childhood, to an age younger than the Boy. We spent alternating Thanksgivings with Aunt D and Papa’s extended family in South Carolina and Nana’s family outside of Nashville. That constituted the majority of our visits.
We haven’t spent a Thanksgiving with Aunt D in probably a decade, but she almost always arranges some kind of family gathering around the holidays. This year, we missed the reunion, and the plan was to have a mini-gathering last Saturday. Alas, Aunt D was sick, and the whole get-together had to be canceled. But the holidays are just not the same without a visit to Aunt D, so we drove through the pine forests on pothole-filled roads (a staple of childhood memories of visiting SC) today for a quick visit -- our first since Uncle M’s memorial service this last summer.
