Prompt 34 - Poetic Graf

Thanksgiving is when you really hit your stride Uncle. Ohh! I can already taste that chocolate fudge. And the turkey is so moist it dissolves in your mouth. Did your wife teach you how to cook like this or was it Nana? If they are the King Arthur of the kitchen kingdom, you are certainly Merlin. The magic you put into the food is something to behold. And then quickly after beholding, eating. And then quickly after eating, watching football with the family; holding our bloated stomachs hoping they don't burst. I can't wait.

Your wrinkled face shows no signs of aging. You would think a trial like the one you faced in the second World War might have worn you to the bone. But no. In the past, you never did talk much about the war. Like a secret sealed chest, you kept it closed, afraid that like Pandora, it would somehow get out. But lately, I've heard that chest creaking open, breaking its rusted locks to reveal wondrous treasures within its tattered facade. Grampa, you're as sharp as a tack that has been filed down on a whetstone wheel. I've got an ear, waiting, if you ever want to share those tales with the world.

Chris, where did we loose each other? Was it right after high school when we both went our separate ways? I know you as well as anyone. We were best friends. I hope we still are. You always tried to fit in, not realizing our friends and I didn't care about that. I remember planning to start a business together. The plans we made and the dreams we dreamed were as good as done. Yet now, you are as far off as an untethered ship, loosed in the night by the rocking waves. I feel as if I should, sort of, climb into a boat, sail out and bring you back to the safety of the harbor. Back to shore where we dreamed about today and called it the future.