Eulogy

What
can one say
of May?

She’d squeeze my nose, so firmly, with both hands, if I disturbed her.

Anything else?

Her purse. She’d stick pins in it, inside out, till it was … a glistening porcupine. And if any lax young man were to grab at it – well. The screams could be heard for weeks.

Something gladder, perhaps?

She mowed over a boy in her chair, once. That’s … the pleasantest thing, I think. Oh – there was the time, near the end, when I found a mint in her Bible – a bill between pages, for pages. When I told her, she said, “Take it. What need could a yellow onion like ME have for money?” So you see, she knew of her harshness. I’m not sure if that makes her a better person, or a worse.  The money? Debts, mostly. And jewelry.

What
can I say
of May?

I am late for tea….

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