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Sunday, November 30, 2014

Sometimes It Starts Like This

We were on our way to the book fair in Ben Wheeler. Jean driving with Evelyn beside her and I in the back seat. Along the country road, we passed a farmhouse set back among the trees. I caught sight of a family cemetery as we drove past. The image of a tilted stone marker remained for a moment and, in my mind's eye, a young woman stood beside it, Her back was to me as she gazed down toward the ground. Gently-curled brown hair draped below her shoulders over a tan trench-style coat tightly wrapped at the waist. That imaginary image stayed with me for some time before I was able to chase it away.

On our way home, I asked Jean if we could stop long enough for me to take a picture. All three of us kept a look-out for the small group of grave markers. Jean was gracious enough to make two turns to enable me to take pictures; first time of the cemetery itself and after Evelyn pointed it out, a return stop so I could walk closer to capture an image of the historical marker so it could be read.

I have no idea where this is leading. For the moment, these notations and the pictures will be filed away...possibly to never see the light of day again.

But, somehow I have a feeling this woman will be visiting me again. I suspect she wants me to write her story.

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