Powerful, Emotional Writings: An Aid to Adult Child Abuse Survivors

The Stories of Our Lives

The stories of our Lives start and restart at many places during our years on this good Earth. Each is a complete story within itself, as well as a part of the whole story.

My story starts in 1951 in a suburb of Philadelphia, although I have only just a very few details of that, and don’t even know the name of that suburb. My story also starts in Trooper, and Linfield, and Randy Run, Royersford, Spring City, Pennsburg, and Sumneytown, all in or near Montgomery County Pennsylvania. My story also starts in Unionville, part of Steuben Maine, just miles from the Canadian border. In that remote corner of the country, my wife’s story, and my story merged, making a larger more detailed and dramatic story that belongs to both, even though we still “own” our original parts. Finally, the story of my life, in a very real sense starts in Ruffin, South Carolina. That’s where my wife, Susan, and I live and love, where we sometimes struggle with Life’s dilemmas and have to lick our wounds.

Ruffin is where we grow vegetables and flower gardens, and continue to grow and heal ourselves. Here we walked my faithful dog Goldie, before her story ended, unleashed on the dusty sand of Rogers Lane. Here in Ruffin we have made many changes in our lives, learning to eat healthy and to exercise in order to control our diabetes, as well as to just feel better, and so that we might live longer healthier, happier lives. We live directly below the Winter migratory flight path of countless bird species. For weeks, tens of thousands of their members completely filling the evening sky just before sunset looking for a safe place to bed down at night in the numerous horse pastures just to our South. My wife and I have “settled here”, and that’s far different than “settled for”, because we love our home here in Ruffin, and although many things will probably change for us here in Ruffin, we don’t plan to move ahead. We don’t see Ruffin as one of those horse pastures that the birds use for just a time before moving on once they are rested, even though there have been many of those “resting places” in our Lives. We feel this is our home, and the last stories of our lives will be written here, many and happy, we hope, becoming part of our larger stories.

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