I am not the only one with old family photos. Jamie has them, too, except she’s young enough that most of hers are in color.
When strangers stop us on the street to tell Jamie how beautiful she is, I always say, ”And she’s even more beautiful on the inside.” They frequently nod and say, ”Oh, you can tell that just by looking at her.”
When she was a little girl and her “Mother of the Year” was still sound asleep, the pajama-clad three year old would often leave the house and waddle down the street and around the corner to a neighbor’s house. The neighbor was Mrs Johnson.
“I think she understood what my mom was all about,” Jamie reminisced, “and decided to fill the void.” Mrs Johnson was a huge influence and I have to think her kindness and sweet nature rubbed off on Jamie. She spent hours with the beautiful little girl, teaching her how to make breakfast, wash dishes, bake cakes, and play Old Maid. They would sit together in Mrs Johnson’s living room and watch game shows on TV. Finally, an exhausted Mrs Johnson would say, ”I need to rest my eyes now, Jamie.”
Last night I looked over and saw Jamie was asleep on the couch. I quietly said, ”Are you asleep?”
”No,” she answered, ”I’m just resting my eyes.”
Mrs Johnson’s daughter took the photo above and below. Is that the most beautiful little girl in the world, or what?
Don’t know who took this photo of Jamie and her older brother Cary, but how cute is it? The cowboy boots were obviously an omen of things to come because Bubba and his wife joined the exodus from California and became fellow Texans a few months ago.
Finally, here’s Jamie and her Uncle Terry. She’s still close to Uncle Terry and Aunt Wanda and visits them every time she finds herself in Southern California.
Jamie and I had been going out for a few months when her grandfather called to say, ”We’re going to be up in your area this weekend. Let’s have lunch.” Jamie’s grandparents lived in northern San Diego County. Terry and Wanda lived in northern Orange County. I lived halfway in between. Grandpa suggested that we all meet for lunch in the middle.
It was the first time I met Jamie’s family. We all got along great — all except for Uncle Terry, who sat silently across the table giving me the evil eye throughout the lunch. He thought I was just some dirty old man who was taking advantage of his sweet, innocent young niece. He was not about to give me the benefit of the doubt.
I’m not saying his initial impression was wrong.
But after a couple years I guess he finally decided I might be ok.
Uncle Terry and I are separated in age by only two years, but I call him “Unc” and he calls me ”my nephew, Little Jimmy.”
Cracks me up.
But enough about me. Look at those beautiful cheeks. And Jamie’s aren’t bad either.