Читать книгу Bedtime Stories for the Child in You - Louise D. Jewell - Страница 6

My great Aunt Violet lived in a small log cabin in the woods where she carved out a life for herself and her adopted son. Aunt Violet knew how to grow the biggest radishes ever. On top of that, she could fix a screen door, build a shed, keep a wood stove burning, and roll a perfectly shaped unfiltered cigarette.

She also knew how to keep an eight-year-old kid happily occupied. I never got bored at Aunt Violet’s. Hours would go by, and she always found a way to keep me busy.

One of my jobs was to play school with my cousin, Barney, her forty-two-year-old son. You see, Barney had the mind of an eight-year-old. One eventful day, many years before, he had made the mistake of walking behind a horse. A big horse that easily startled.

One kick resulted in permanent brain damage and a steel plate for a forehead. Barney’s brain never developed past the age of eight. I felt so grown-up when I hung out with him. My job was to make sure he did not wander off the property.

I also felt really grown up when I joined Aunt Violet and Barney for morning coffee. At the age of eight, I was chugging back cups of the hot brew like nobody’s business.

Years later, I figured out that Aunt Violet had added lots of hot milk to my coffee cup. No matter! I was hooked forever. To this day, I think fondly of my Aunt Violet when I sip my morning coffee with hot foamed milk.

Was Aunt Violet highly educated? No.

Did she have degrees behind her name? Again, no.

And yet, to me, she was one of the most creative, resourceful, and responsible people I have ever met.

You’ll never find a rainbow if you’re looking down.

~ Charlie Chaplin