Marks of Existence

We tried to trace it back to the year when she chose thanksgiving as her favorite holiday. No one could remember a time before she claimed it as her own.  And because she loved it so we chose this day to cast her over the bridge, each one tapping her last shards into the wind.  We paused to watch a sliver of glassy jade shatter into clouds of foam as it collided with a small cascade.  I looked for a sign.  Above, the buzzards silently coasted, waiting for us each to take our turn.