She liked it when we were around, "That picture there," she laughed, looking at an old wrinkled up fellow on a horse drawn carriage. "That was in Ireland. We rode with him for a while before I asked if I could take his picture."
Ireland wasn't the only place she went to, her and Uncle Ken also went to Holland and ... Every time she came back she had new stories to tell.
Nick and Jay stood around and followed their Aunt Nancie's movements with their big heads, barely balancing them on their little frames.
"How do you read so much?" Jason asked in his three year old accent, noticing a three inch thick book marked with a bookmark in the center.
Nancie told him that it was easy when you like reading. Jason did have a valid point, Nancie's room was filled with books, under the bed, a book shelf near the window, stacks beside her bed. She always had a book, and it wasn't just easy reading, it seemed as if she went through a book every other day.
When she wasn't around Grandma and Pop Pop didn't want anyone going in Nancie's room when she wasn't around--and we agreed, for the most part, because of how spiritually active it was. Nick and Jay snuck in one or two times before they were old enough to care about 'foot of the bed ghosts' or Bloody Mary, and were quickly led out of the room.
"You don't want to mess anything up in there," Grandma would say. "Your Aunt Nancie will get mad."
I never saw my Aunt Nancie get mad, except maybe when she relayed one of her stories of karate chopping some guy in the neck or arguing with patients at work.
his is a lovely memory! It brought to mind my own visits as a kid to my Aunt Elizabeth's and Uncle Windy's, where her (and my mother's) two brothers also lived. We'd sneak into their rooms because of all the interesting things they had. And Playboy magazines.
ReplyDeleteHaha! Thank you!
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