Jim D

I ran into Jim D at the grocery store today. He had genuine joy and love in his eyes when he saw me and the kids. He didn't know we'd had a second child. He asked how we were doing, where we were and updated me on his life some. Before he left, he said over and over blessings over me, the agent and most of all the kids. Somehow, the blessings we've had over our kids from homeless family (as we call our friends from the streets) seem weightier. Behind their words and sincerity are layers of pain, of remorse and disappointment, hopes dashed and an overriding, true desire for us to live in the joy of what is supposed to be.

My most poignant memory of Jim D is visiting him at a camp with Cherokee, the agent, the bossman and the bossman's wife. The bossman had made supper and we were all hanging out eating together. Jim D kept staring at me and finally apologized saying that I looked so much like his daughter. Of course that got us asking about his kids. He pulled out a picture from his wallet and I could not believe my eyes. There in some studio style portrait sat a typical middle class family- dad, mom and 2 teenage girls. The man was Jim D, a healthier, wealthier, slightly younger man with a home and family, apparently living the american dream. And yes, his daughter did look very similar to me although we'd never pass for twins. It dawned on me then and there that no one is immune. We could all be one step away from a much different life.