It’s an interesting experience writing about people who could in theory read about themselves on the internet. There is an extra push to be scrupulously honest and kind-hearted in thought. As I was drifting off to sleep last night, the phrase “but that was in another country and besides the wench is dead” came into mind and I thought about how relaxing it would be to write about foreign people or dead people for a change.
My aunt Ruth is both. She was a large woman in every possible sense of the word (possibly the only obese person I ever met in all of Switzerland). She certainly filled a room with her carrying musical voice and her unrestrained laugh, which she gifted the world frequently … and loudly.
Last night at dinner I was telling Aunt Ruth stories because a remark Terry had made in the car earlier that day reminded me of a time that Aunt Ruth, my mother and I got on a bus together. When I was driving with Terry, he said “I hate kids,” and hoped that the light would not change and leave us stuck next to the kids yelling at drivers seeking support for their all-star team. When I was riding to the glacier on the bus with my mother and aunt, a group of children on a class trip to the same glacier boarded. My mother cringed at the noise and chaos. But Aunt Ruth visibly expanded, caressed children’s heads and enthusiastically joined in their songs, possibly even drowning them out.
She always sailed forth fearlessly into the world and would talk to anyone at any time of the day or night. When Liam was born, she finally consented to fly to the United States for a visit. My mother had been living in this country for fifty years at that point so her consent had been a long time coming. I’ve often wondered what tipped the decision just then after so many years. Two seats had to be bought on the plane for her. Liam was born in early December, so was only about three weeks old when we drove to Chicago for Christmas and found Aunt Ruth happily enjoying the pleasures of American life, including clothes shopping. She had bought twelve full slips and 15 half-slips, marveling at the cheap prices and the wide variation in sizes available. “No sense of proportion,” my mother grumbled about her sister. “That is more slips than anyone would use in a lifetime and she is old already. No sense of proportion.” She had asked her sister to bring some raclette cheese and Aunt Ruth had done so, an entire suitcase full, about forty pounds of the stuff. I just laughed my head off and assured my mother than no harm would come to anyone from excessive slip-buying. I was surprised that the agriculture dog at the airport hadn’t found her out so the customs officials could levy some sort of excise tax meant for cheese importers. The dog had probably been mesmerized by all the laughing that was surely filling the customs hall.
I'm back for another story. So glad I didn't miss this one. What a treasure of a human your Aunt Ruth was. The world could use a lot more happy souls like her.
Hi Francoise! I am your get-pushed partner for this week. I have started to think about a possible challenge already, but will need a bit more time to find a good one :). You can see what I've been challenged to so far here: http://365project.org/tags/vera365-gp And thank you for the follow!
the story made me smile - I love your words