Sawyer’s Regret

                                                          Sawyer’s Regret


When I was a child there was nothing I would rather do than be with my grandfather. Over the years, in the quiet moments, he was patient with my questions, letting out his story a little at a time while we worked and ate and hunted. Much of our time together was at the family mill, but there were many others when he taught me important things like how to paddle a canoe and bait a hook. It was then that it leaked, bit by bit, the basic parts when I was still small, but then details – deeper things a person needs to be older to appreciate.

I am Jotham Sawyer; my Grandfather was Elias whose own grandfather, Thomas Sawyer, crossed the Atlantic, leaving the safety on the Massachusetts coast to become one of the first settlers of The Nashuay Plantation at the edge of a new frontier.

There are thousands of us now – Sawyers, that is, all with ties to my great grandfather and 1646. Most in our family have heard the tale, but none like me – the pieces a man would only tell a grandson. I’ve shared it with my children and with their children when they were old enough to understand.

I’m old now, and it’s left for me to write it down before I forget, before my grandfather’s story slips into history untold.




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