Aunt Jeanie goes garage-sailing. She lets the wind blow her to one driveway dump after another and she buys useless things: eight track players, fishing creels, cowboy hats, and skinny jeans.
Yesterday, I was talking to my mother…
“Do you remember when I was in 4th grade?”
“We went camping at the lake and I made a mud monster. My pants got soaked.”
“Yes, I remember.”
“All I had was my aunt’s present, a pair of skinny jeans, three sizes too small. It got cold under the stars and those pants squeezed my nuts.”
“Oh yes, that was an awful trip. Your father stepped on me in the dark.”
“Anyway, Aunt Jeanie gave me a sweatshirt two days later. I put it on and it looked like a dress. It went down to my knees.”
“You mustn’t be too hard on her, Andy. She’s all alone in the world.”
“All my clothes from elementary school are gone now, accept her sweatshirt.
“Yeah. And yesterday, I wore it to the library and nobody saw me. I think it makes me invisible.”
“You have a big imagination.”
“Maybe, but life’s been killing me slowly the last few years and what I have left is my own. I need to protect it.”