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| When Sister Alma Rose meets someone for the first time, she always says, “How do you do? I am Sister Alma Rosalie of Hilltop Farm,” using all her names, you see, like in the Middle Ages when people said, “How, now! I am Will the Wainwright from the Swampy Glen, forsooth.” And folks would call him “Will Wright” or “Will O’ Glen” or something, to distinguish him from Will the Cooper from the New Town on the Southern Bank of the River Muddlebury or some such thing. Sister Alma Rose is rather prim in the matter of introductions, but she manages to be gracious and warm at the same time. I introduced her to Daddy’s Auntie Pru, or, rather, I introduced Auntie Pru to Sister Alma Rose, as is proper because Sister Rose is the elder of the two, one rainy morning on Sister Alma Rose’s big wraparound porch. Sister Alma Rose extended her strong, capacious right hand and closed it firmly around Auntie Pru’s small, bony one, and then Sister Alma Rose placed her left hand on top of their clasped hands and squeezed, causing Auntie Pru to wince, and it looked for all the world like a Venus flytrap devouring a moth. Then Sister Alma Rose smiled, and the rain stopped and the sun came out. I am perfectly serious. |
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| ...a short fable about fatherhood |
| Preview & purchase at lulu.com #1409978 $24.99 + shipping or $5.00 to download |
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| © Luc Viatour GFDL/CC |
| Daddy Pete... |
For personal use. Please print only one copy from download. Thanks!