I was a recent college graduate with big dreams and big hair living in a small town.
|~1985 ~ |
Taken a couple of weeks before I met my Southern beau.
The photographer told me not to smile in this one!
My father was a preacher who had planted churches all over the country while serving God and people.
His father* was an Army man who had served his country and whose roots were planted in the middle of Georgia .
Our mothers were both raised in the South and each loved her husband and children. And both could put a meal on the table that would make your mouth water and your tongue say, "Thank you, Maam."
I moved from my college town in Tennessee to his central Georgia town the summer of my graduation. Although I had accepted a job at a local newspaper office in Tennessee, my dad convinced me to come home. "Home," at that time, was an even smaller town in south Georgia. It seemed my chances at a career and in finding a husband were getting as small as the small towns I was living in.
That summer my parents moved from the charming little town of Alma, Georgia, to the slightly larger town of Thomaston in central Georgia. At least I was getting closer to Atlanta ~ only one hour away! And I had plans for Atlanta and me.
But on a Sunday in September all my plans were about to change.
*I never met my husband's father. He passed away from leukemia when my husband was 16.
(I sent my husband an email this morning to tell him I had a surprise for him on my blog.So I got an email in reply with "WOW" in the subject line and he wrote: "OK I was surprised by the post. I can not wait to see what happens next."
To which I replied, "Well…you KNOW what happens next." And now I'm wondering if I make something up, will he know it?)