He Was Freezing Beside a Grave on Thanksgiving — I Took Him In, Then Discovered Who He Really Was
My name is Iris, and I am seventy-eight years old. For the past four Thanksgivings, I’ve spent the holiday completely alone. Once, this house was alive with laughter, the rich smell of roasting turkey filling the kitchen, and the happy chaos of children racing down the hall, calling out for one another. But now, the…