Junior was one of the basketball team, and I was a cheerleader.  It all began when he asked me to sit with him on the way home from a game.  Humble beginnings!  We were a couple for almost 3 years in High School.  He had graduated, and was in college when we split up.  We each needed to go our own way.  I thought there was no place for this country girl in his city life, and he thought we had been fooling ourselves, hanging on to High School romance.  We kept in touch over the years, and we were pleased to see the other with a family, children (mine were step-children),  etc.  His Brother and Sister-in-law and Mom still lived here.  I had come back to farm on the family land.  By Jan. '99 my marriage was ending, and I kicked my abusive Husband out in April.  Around Sept. Junior's family had heard that I was farming on my own, and he stopped by to see how I was doing.  We traded e-mail addresses, and sent jokes.  A few weeks later, he e-mailed me to call him to talk about old times.  So a few days later, I did.  Turns out, his wife had moved out for a break.  He was sure the marriage was over.  (It is.)  In the next 2 months we talked often, and found out our lives had paralleled each other's.  We also found that neither of us had ever stopped loving the other, we simply had underestimated the worth of what we had found in High School.  Above all else, we both want the best for each other.  In 1983, that meant splitting up.  Now it means; not any more than talking on the phone while he and I both get our situations straight.

The freedom with which we communicate, the ease with which we talk, the simplicity of our connection is overwhelming.  His touch is volumes, his words are total.  Can I really be this lucky.  And yes, he says the same things to me!

He recommended to me to rent "What Dreams May Come" with Robin Williams. The movie showed him who he was supposed to be with, and it went further than that for me.  I would say anyone thinking they are Soulmates should see it.

Thanks for your time, and I will be visiting your page again.

Jean Burr
burrfarm@albany.net