There’s a dear person. I’ve known her for five-six years. She married a son of my husband’s cousin, with whom Larry grew up as a sister, because his two sisters were much older than him – moved away from home to attend higher learning schools by the time Larry entered first grade. Few shared memories, little shared life.
‘Back in the day’ the entire family convened for Sunday dinner at the grandparents’ home. Larry interacted with his cousins as playmates and peers. Mostly he recalls being shooed from the living room where the women convened to gossip and quilt and then going with the adult men to check the crops, er, drive to a nearby bar. Larry loved Nehi, but not the smell of cigars.
And then, there were the summer stays on the farm, a real treat for the ‘city kid’ whose parents both worked. In mid-Michigan, the palm of the hand-shaped state, where my three books’ protagonists enact their antics.
Remember the books are absolute fiction. (true ‘dat) Our relatives would never kick up their heels in such ways. Tsk-tsk.
But I digress.
The young couple moved to Tucson which, though nine hours’ drive from Irvine, was nearer than anyone in Lar’s family had moved. Most have not moved from a twenty-five mile square radius from the farm and small town. Firmly-planted they are.
We first met to mutually birthday celebrate after an invited visit with other favorite cousin and his wife in Las Vegas. We had a great time, but after our goodbye hug, Ron said, “Don’t get too close to me. I’ve caught a cold.” Oops, and soon, A-choo!
By the time we visited with friends who’d moved to Phoenix, and then moved on to visit Dan and Jess, I had the URI – which I gave to Dan, forever feeling guilty after all was said and done. My relief is knowledge that I was not the first and would not be the last.
But last, my relationship with Dan’s spunky wife, would. She’s the daughter-of-my-heart. A connection of spunky, literate, and contemplative souls. Facebook keeps us close, as well as supreme God-incidence.
Simultaneous to a planned visit with us in March, 2014, J called, crying, that Dan had been hospitalized in Houston while on an ag trip, the beginning of his earthly end. “Go to him,” I said. And go, she did. Supporting him lovingly to the end, which is not The End.
BTW, the daughter-of-my-heart believes in miracles, too. http://dannyboyandjgirl.blogspot.com/2015/04/