Snow continues to obliterate the view of our neighbor's house, across our shared cul-de-sac. When we look that way today, as we have daily for the last thirty-eight years, we are so very saddened. As I write, Jim is losing the two-year war he has raged against devastating illness.
We all moved into our newly built homes at the same time. Memory serves me clearly, as I recall his first visit to our brand new home. I can envision my parents, brother and wife, all sitting at the kitchen table, while Joe, one-year-old Brian and I gave him the Grand Tour. Smile. It seems like yesterday. He last visited a couple months ago. He asked for my Mom, and I said, "We recently had a party, in celebration of her ninetieth. Isn't that amazing? Ninety!" Jim responded, "Well, that's great! I signed that contract, too." We wish it had worked for him.
In between those first and last visits, we've watched each other's backs and together enjoyed the beauty of our surroundings, knowing how lucky we are to have landed on this part of the planet. I must mention that he loves snow. Jim has our constant thoughts and prayers, as we glance across the space in between.
