Saturday before last would have been Jamie's 40th Birthday. Here we are up at Aunt Della's pond doing some sort of cheer. Lindsay is in the stroller, Jon is in front of us, Becky to my right and Jamie to her right. Although Jon and Lindsay were in front, it was Jamie who was leading us. I know that hillside well and I know that family too. The Wilsons live a mile away, Judy is my mom's best friend and they worked together as social workers for years. Warren Wilson was born and grew up in the home that my parents still live in.
I may have only had twelve years with Jamie, but those are the important years for conditioning and imprinting. I watched she and my sister form a bond worthy of jealousy, but instead of jealously, it felt like an extension of our family. Becky and Jamie taught me about adventure and exploration. Between our families and the mile of backroad, Moores Creek, cattle fields, and the dairy farm between us, there were summer days, snow days, and evenings of fun to be had. We developed elaborate stories that kept us and any visiting cousins and friends well-entertained. There were tree houses, sand pits, tobacco barn clubhouses, seemingly wild horses, scary bulls, four wheeler adventures, ten-speed biking excursions, and mud masks from the pond. Jamie was a leader and I wish I could have seen all of the amazing things she would have done with her life. We miss her daily and are inspired by pondering what she would think of us and how we are choosing to live our lives.
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