My friend for over four decades had open-heart surgery last March. His wife has been my tried and true soul sister since we met in the fifth grade at Cloverdale Elementary in Montgomery. Over the years, we'd gathered on many occasions both sweet and some sad. But this one was different. It had a new face and it was somber and it gave us reason to reflect. After hours of waiting, the doctor proclaimed the surgery a success. Ronnie's life would continue. All our lives would continue, but they would be changed, too.
Later over a glass of wine, tears, laughter, and thanksgiving, Libbo and I happened upon the subject of my book. She'd known I was struggling with what to do about "the box" and all that it represented. She knew I felt a bondage with what I had inherited and she knew I needed a release. And I knew I needed something to push me, to force my hand to begin the project. Ronnie's brush with death, and Libbo's constant encouragement gave me the impetus to begin the book I felt destined to complete before all my time had passed. The reality of time-limits urged me forward.
It's reasonable and true that the life of my book took form because of Libbo and Ronnie. The title not only relates to the four roads leading to Montgomery from Virginia, Kentucky, Tennessee and Georgia, but to the spared life of my friend after his quadruple bypass surgery. It represents roots as well as routes that lead to, surround, and ground life, families, and lasting friendships.
Just as Libbo has been my soul-rooted sister for all these years, her mother was like a mother to me. Bess loved me unconditionally like she loved all who knew her. Her requirements were small; her radiance quiet and unassuming. Yesterday, the earth seemed quiet and smaller as it allowed her passage from this realm to the next. She was 89 and she transcended as peacefully as she lived.
This entry is in honor of Bess.
I'll resume posts on "The Southern Bypass" beginning January, 2010.
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