Window Over The Sink

by Donna Cronk I’m not talking about a holiday table where everyone talks at once, anticipating the turkey and dressing. The family members filling my dining room table of late came from afar: from not only the previous century but the one before that.  They were around when horses and buggies were the only local public transportation. They butchered their own meat, raised their own chickens, and the ladies wore long-sleeved floor-length dresses daily as they canned food and