It was a crisp autumn day in ’59. I arrived early—a rare event in my life.
Farm life was my birthright, but big business and computer technology beckoned. Then came failures: jobs, ventures, marriages, friendships.
I met her in the hospital lobby. I was consulting; she worked for the hospital vice president. I still remember what she wore, her perfume, and how she slipped off her shoes while we talked.
Success replaced my failures: a lasting marriage, children, money, travel, grandchildren—and a faith that anchored me.
I still think of the people of the small Alabama town that welcomed me into this world on that October day. They pull the weeds from the cemetery where my parents lie. There’s a space for me there someday, and for the woman I met in the hospital lobby.
Fall of Fifty-Nine
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How precious the moment you recognize your soul mate!
Love remains steadfast through every storm.
God’s promise.
Your vow!
Great beginning, I want more!
Jim, Thanks for the wonderful memories. You two are Soulmates for Sure.
Loved this, Jamison. Roots run deep and I appreciate that you remember your home townfolk who look after the cemetery…
Ah, but you had a different path to take, and God in His wisdom saw to it that two kindred souls happened upon each other and built a life infused with faith!
Glory Be!
Interesting and difficult method of recording your life. Enjoyed learning about your wife and the memory of perfume. Too few words or you could add she swept you off your feet. Keep writing!
Jim. You are amazing.