I thought of writing a short story, an essay about my three aunts. They are my mom’s sisters. They have their own children but they made me feel special growing up, still now. When I had crisis a few years ago, they all helped me. One flew up from Georgia and stayed with me for a few days.
My family was pretty tight when I was growing up so we spent a lot of time together, my aunts their husbands my dad all my cousins, grandma and grandpa. Grandma and grandpa were actually separated but showed up for all the family events anyway. This was all on my mom’s side. Even though I don’t speak to my aunts all the time, I still feel a bond because of those early days. They also had a brother, the only male, who was schizophrenic.
Shit I had a special relationship with him. When I was unemployed back in 2000, I would visit him at the institution every couple of weeks with one of the aunts that I mentioned. We picked him up, and ate out, usually at the same diner. He smoked several cigarettes and would impart nuggets of insane genius which I loved. I generally enjoyed talking to him. He passed away in 2004. Maybe I’ll come up with something to write about my beautiful aunts and uncle. I’ve held off because anything I come up with is just too maudlin.