You Can Be My Wingman. Anytime.
When Alice left me, I despaired. She set a high bar for a wingman. She dragged Dad around to make sure he talked to enough strangers every day. She went out in small towns in the dark to get medicine. She fetched dinner and made sure I ate. She gave out cards for my novel and encouraged people to read it, even developing a sales schtick with Roy that was pretty awesome.
Two days on our own, and Dad and I were screaming at each other. (Well, I always have to scream for him to hear me.) We don’t do well on our own.
That’s why I was so glad to see my mother-in-law. She fled arctic Wisconsin for Mississippi. Week Two in the wingman slot.
Poor Joyce arrived at the precise moment Dad and I became sick of each other. She navigated the turbulence with aplomb and was an indispensable help to me as I logged another 90 miles on the Natchez Trace. I’m sorry to see her leave.
For the next three weeks, my wingman will be……….
A recent text from my mother.
Click here to see the best photos from Day 14 of my Natchez Trace walk: Andra Watkins Tumblr
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Today’s awesome Reader Question: