Posted on May 18, 2009


One day grandmother pulled a turkey’s wishbone down from the cupboard and held it out to me between her two fingers, dangling it like one would dangle a treat over a dog’s head. The bone my grandmother held out on that day was a particularly large one. She had saved it for months after Thanksgiving to ensure it was good and dry for pulling. Behind her, the Christmas turkey’s wishbone was still drying on the kitchen windowsill. It was always me that my grandmother chose to pull with. She never pulled the bone with my brother or my mother or grandfather. I did not know why, except for the fact that she seemed confident that I was unable to succeed in any venture, especially in ones involving fortune.

Posted in: May 2009