I'm not sure of the year, but it is during the second World War in Macon or Marietta, Georgia. Uncovering little details as I remember her stories, I wish Mom were still alive.
The young Lewis couple were in the deep South with the land lady who spit tobacco in a spittoon while she talked to them in the evening. A small Christmas tree propped on suitcases for the appearance of a bigger size decorated their corner. Bing Crosby singing White Christmas on the radio filling the room with music and their hearts with homesickness. No snow in Georgia.
The sergeant catches a few extra pieces of silverware from the mess hall, so they can have some at home. Jean ecstatically told her boss at Westinghouse, that after two years her husband was returning stateside, and she was quitting to join him.
He urged her, "No, don't quit, just visit him for two weeks."
"No, my husband will be in Georgia and I'm going to him to stay," she emphatically proclaimed.
Jerry got her a blue velvet suit for Christmas. Her blond hair and blue eyes complemented the outfit. He thought he had the prettiest girl in the world. She knew she had the handsomest man.
When I hear Bing on the radio like this morning, I imagine this young couple again, especially in the rainy warm weather we're having today. Were love stories better in the 1940's? Or am I just lucky to have parents that love each other forever?