I'm not even going to complain about the weather. You know.
Not a good writing weekend. I just couldn't settle down to it. Maybe I need a brain transplant.
June 22-Amadeo Modigliani, Woman with a Fan. When Jean remembered her Aunt Lunia she always pictured her sitting in her chair in front of the mantle with a folding fan in her hand. Lunia moved her fan back and forth so slowly that Jean was certain that it barely moved the air. She knew that her mother's sister lived with them from before Jean was born and she knew that Lunia must have moved around the house helping Mama with the cleaning and cooking, but she had no memories of the tall, slender woman seated at meals with them or standing in the kitchen, dish towel in hand, laughing with Mama and drying dishes. What made Jean think of her still and silent Aunt Lunia were the boxes and piles of Aunt Lunia's belongings that she came upon in the far end of the attic. Mama had died six months ago and Jean was working her way through the old house. She had put off the attic as long as possible, but now she sat there in the cold blue light of midwinter with the pieces of her aunt's life around her.
Time for work. Have a good day.
--Barbara
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