When we got married, we thought we knew what we were doing. Boy, were we wrong! Bobby and I have had to switch gears more times than a guy driving a stick through the Rockies. We married after two years of college at the ripe old ages of nineteen and twenty. Bobby had always wanted to be a church . . .
I should have an empty nest by now, but I don’t. Fourteen years ago, we had one child left at home when Daddy died, and Mama had to make the decision of where she would live. She could have stayed in her house. She was seventy-six and in perfect health, so living on her own was certainly . . .