Just one tear. . . .

I was at dinner tonight with MyFella and his family. For some reason, MyFella and his mother had a brief conversation about people who had passed away, or are passing away. They were talking about accepting death, or not accepting it, and how they do or don't miss people who have died. . . and my mind drifted. . .

to Mrs. Edna. I think actually she was never married, but certainly should have been called Mrs. She was. . . going over to her brother's house one day. I can't quite remember his name. He had rented the house across the street from my childhood home. The small rental was owned by the neighbors directly to our left, which was the cap-end of the cul-de-sac type street we lived on.

I think it was my brother who reached out to her first. It would be his way. I can see it. My recollections tell me that the man traveled maybe, or just wasn't home a lot, and one of his two sisters, Mrs. Edna, came over a few times a week to do something for him. I have the impression she helped clean his house or maybe made some meals. Who knows the things sisters will do for their brothers.

And the next thing you know, we were constant companions in her great big car. I remember it being a big silver grey Buick, 4 door. I remember adventures in that car, mostly cropped pictures in my head. I can't quite recall . . . I recall a feeling more than actual memories.

I remember a fresh water spring down a gravel road, and trips to the banks of the river. I remember Saturday and Sunday afternoons, my brother and I in her big car, wherever she took us.

I think that she passed away while I was in college. And I think I had not seen her in too long, long enough to be ashamed of it, looking back.

And tonight I miss her. I was surprised to have thoughts of her, and surprised when the tear rolled down my cheek.


July 31, 2010.