Apologies for the second post for today, but last night's updates fell into a cell-hole.
Keep those questions coming, and I'll keep answering them!
I adore Andra. Two days before she left for this 444-mile walk we had a surprise celebration for her at The Belmont in Charleston, the first time I had successfully surprised her since the day 10 years before when I made my proposal to her that she be my wife for life. These ten years have been my best years, so far.
How could I possibly let her wander of into the dangers of the Natchez Trace? Throughout history, the Trace has been a haunt of notorious highwaymen, robbers and murderers.
It was an oyster shell, bleached white. I found it in a box on my aunt’s dresser, the day I showed up to retrieve a few pieces of furniture and cleaned out her whole house to earn them.
I wasn’t emotionally prepared to finger through a whole lifetime in an afternoon. Which clothes might she wear at the nursing home? Did she need her underwear? Why did she have a tiny snuff can in the back of her medicine cabinet? Where did she wear a delicate pair of cream colored gloves, a green pill box hat? Why did she fail to tell me she met Ronald Reagan?
"There's no sense in dropping me off at my parents' house, MTM. Nobody will be home at this time of the morning."
"Well............where do you want me to leave you? I'll only be an hour or so."
"Starbucks. Take me to the only Starbucks in Florence, South Carolina. Not so much because I can get on the wi-fi."