“Camelot!
Sweet Camelot! I searched in vain as though thee had never gone!”
Over
the next several weeks, an ever-efficient United States
Postal
Service, oblivious to the random comings
and goings of
its
myriad patrons made three posthumous deliveries to departed
Jim
at his daughter, Tracie’s, address. Still in a dazed malaise at
the
inconsolable loss of her father, the
girl placed them in a “special”
box which, she declared, she’d review some day
in the future. Not now.
Some
time after, but before a full year had passed announcing the
grievous
anniversary of his passing, she and her siblings gathered
to
view the contents of the cache. Among the modest horde mostly
of
“too late” arrived-mail, they found three Happy Birthday cards:
Coach
Jim: So glad you looked me up; what a nice surprise to see
you
after such a long time. You will always hold a “special” place
in
my heart. Happy Birthday! Your dear friend, forever, Nancy
Jimmy-boy!
Thanks for the book; it’s a real page-turner history;
could
not have done better, myself. Thanks for visiting me. I hope
you’ll
come again, soon. Happy Birthday! Avery
(You were right)
Jim-bo!
Happy Birthday! Mon Amie! ’Til next we meet! Love, OCG
Camelot-found!
Camelot-lived! Camelot-loved! Camelot-reclaimed!
Amen!
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