We found her table the second Saturday in December, at an estate sale in Kenesaw.
Arlene spotted it. Round oak on a pedestal. Three leaves. A hundred and sixty dollars. Curt and Wayne hauled it home in the same stock trailer.
Arlene and I have been to four more sales since, hunting chairs to go around it. We’re up to seven.
Harold comes to Sunday dinner now.
So does Ben. When the interstate is open, and when it isn’t.
Stephanie makes the gravy at my house. And I sit on a stool with my hands tucked under my legs and keep my mouth shut. She says it’s the finest present I ever gave her.
The week after Thanksgiving, I got Don’s carpenter pencil out of the junk drawer, where it had been since he died.
I turned over the chair Arlene Lindquist had sat in. It had never been broken, so there was nothing written on it.
I wrote something anyway.
Arlene. Brought the pies.
Then I turned over my own chair, and I added a line right under his.
Still doesn’t know better. But she’s learning.
Specialty: Quiet Comebacks & Personal Justice
David Reynolds focuses on stories where underestimated individuals regain control of their lives. His writing centers on measured decisions rather than dramatic outbursts — emphasizing preparation, patience, and the long game. His characters don’t shout; they act.