We had a large breakfast the next morning, and Papa called the dealership and told them he would be coming in late today. I helped Aunt Myrna lug her suitcases to the truck, and I stood by and watched as she hugged Mama and Papa. She looked down at me, and I looked up at her. I didn't like crying in front of people and I hoped she would leave before the tears came, but I didn't want her to leave at all, and I felt very aggravated and sad.
"Well, Kate," Aunt Myrna said. She squatted down on her thick knees, and I heard one of them pop, and she groaned a little. I rushed into her arms, and she held me so tight I thought the wind would disappear from my lungs.
The lump in my throat blocked any words from coming out, and all I could do was squeeze my aunt's neck as hard as I could. She whispered in my ear, "I love you, Kate," and then in an instant she shot back up, waved goodbye to us, and jumped into the old pickup. She roared up Thistlewood, and Grandpa Wilhelm's truck barely slowed down as it turned right onto Birchwood. And she was gone.
I received a letter from Aunt Myrna a few days later.
Dear Kate,
Well, the old truck got me home safely. I got stuck on that bridge going over the Mississippi River in St Louis. Some kind of traffic jam. I was not very happy about that, but the rest of the trip was pretty uneventful.
I guess you'll know who will be replacing Sister George Anne soon. I look forward to hearing all about the third grade.
How's Moley and Ratty coming along? Are you enjoying them? My favorite character is Badger. Do you like him? Or have you gotten that far in Grahame's book yet?
We've planted the fourth wheat. Still mighty dry around here, but the well's holding its own.
Must close here. Miller and his wife are coming over to help load up the beef and we're heading for Lincoln. It's a long drive, but there's a better market there than in Grand Prairie.
I enjoyed visiting with you again, Kate.
Love, much love from your
Aunt Myrna
PS: Here's the copy of The Old Man and the Sea I told you about.
The end of summer and the beginning of the new school year were busy. I had to have a new uniform, and new Oxfords, new school supplies. Mostly, I had to get in as much playtime with Danny, Timmy, and Harry as I could before the days started getting shorter. It was several weeks before I answered Aunt Myrna's letter.
Dear Aunt Myrna,
I like Badger's house better than any of the other houses. It doesn't bother me so much that he has no windows, like it does Rat, who's used to windows on the River
Bank. I mostly like his study, and I think when I grow up I will have a room just like his study, and fill it with as many books as it will hold. I have decided to become a writer, and I will fill my study with my own books.
Harry is on new medicine, and he only has to go to the doctor once a month now.
Mr Watson is letting Danny and Timmy ride their bikes to school now. Harry's mother drives him most days because he still gets clogged up sometimes.
Our new nun is nearly as young as Sister Mary Frances, and I like her very much.
Jeannie says she plays the guitar but I haven't heard her yet.
I have to go in a minute because Mr Watson is getting the go-cart out for us.
Love, your niece,
Katie
PS: I forgot to tell you! Papa and Mr Watson and Danny went down into the
Rainbow Forrest the day after you left and invited Mrs Washington and some of her family and neighbors to the block party. Not as many people from Thistlewood were there as usually come, but we all had a great time. Missie (Mrs Washington's granddaughter) was there, and we played all afternoon. She's coming over after school tomorrow. She loaned me her copy of The Diary of Anne Frank. I haven't started reading it yet. I let her have Lost Horizon.
It rained all afternoon the day of the block party, and we moved the tables and record player into the old barn, which hardly leaks at all. Papa says it's got a good solid frame, even if it does lean a little, and next Saturday he's taking off work and he and Mr Watson and Mr Dodson and some of Mrs Washington's neighbors are going to paint it.
I wonder what color it'll be.
About the Author
Kit Duncan is a licensed clinical social worker with over thirty years of experience working with families, children, couples, groups, and individuals. She holds the Master of Science in Social Work degree from the University of Texas at Arlington, and has done postgraduate work at the University of South Carolina at Columbia. She has been the Clinical Director of Human Services Consultation since 1987.
Kit lives in central Kentucky. She is the author of several novels, including Corban, Dandelions in Paradise, and Tea With Mrs Saunders.
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