The thread that holds us together...
Constructing thought... Just a day or so after my Bema's funeral I was finally able to start putting my thoughts into more complete sentences instead of fragments of emotions and memories. Sitting in a quiet room, I wrote them on scrap paper just as quickly as I could, all too often my words come faster than my fingers can write... The laughter and tastes of home... Laughter.... loud, boisterous, contagious, deep down, soul warming, side aching laughter... This is what my mind is consumed with as I think of my earliest memories of my Donell family. Big hugs— long hugs, eagerly greeting us after a long drive. As each family member would arrive the joyous greetings would start all over. Finally, when the last family would pull into the driveway our hearts would be full, overflowing. Everyone was home! The smells!! Oh the smells that came from Bema and Papaws kitchen!! My first taste of homemade peanut butter cookies, smoked brisket, fresh bass fried to golden perfect, and mou