me on the left, then Molly, then great grandson Paxton James, and then Angel. Godzilla is perched on the pillow in the window.
Me at age 16 in early 1976, six months after I was run over by a drunk driver, while throwing my paper route on that mangled Honda CL100. After 6 weeks in the hospital, 600 stitches in my right leg, a pin in my right femur, my right thumb and pinky sewn back together, after nearly getting sliced off…I’m alive. I’ve still got my right leg, my right hand, my senses, my memory, and my family.
I so should have died in this wreck six blocks from home, and one block short of my high school. The hospital I was taken to had only been open three months. I had several good Samaritans who stopped and rendered aid. I had a family that supported me.
Life IS nice…in fact, it’s beautiful. From this point in my life, every morning was brighter, every breath deeper, every second more valuable.
On top of ALL of THAT…today is Annie and my 41st anniversary…I can’t imagine life without her.
Ain’t life grand?