another little slice of memoir

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Once upon a long, long time ago, I boarded a ferry with my dad and grandmother to visit her sister, my great-aunt Nona.

She lived so deep in the countryside that it felt otherworldly. An old, old place. Old unpainted house, old separate kitchen joined to it by an old porch, old outbuildings…old outhouse. The memory has lost much of its detail now, like an aged sepia photograph, fading and fragile.

What remains are the bright sunshine and the green, green grass where I ran and played while the grown-ups talked and laughed on the porch. They were having a great visit…until I ran through a clover patch and fiery pain seared my ankle.

Bumblebee sting. I collapsed in the clover, screaming.

The grown-ups leapt off the porch in a single bound.

I can’t remember Grandma’s reaction. She was typically soothing: I know it hurts, honey. I am sorry.

I can’t remember Daddy’s reaction. He was typically irritated: All right, calm down! Stop making such a racket.

But I remember Aunt Nona’s reaction.

Sweet-faced, graying black hair pulled into a bun, silver cat-eye glasses…she said to my father:

“Give me one of your cigarettes.”

He did.

She peeled the paper back, put the tobacco in her mouth, made a paste, and dabbed it on my ankle.

“That’ll take the pain away,” she said.

As for me (weird kid that I was), the sight of the wet brown clump on my ankle was nearly as horrifying as the sting. Now I sobbed and screamed.

Sometimes I question the details of this memory: Was that really a cigarette she chewed, or snuff? It was so long ago…but cigarette is what I remember.

And I remember my gentle Aunt Nona, kindest of souls, bearer of wisdom from the old days, the old ways, a humble woman who played piano by ear and composed her own hymns. She lived to be 101.

All these ages and ages hence, I marvel at her tobacco remedy and resourcefulness.

Just a little leaf of memory, now pressed and preserved here, before time finishes burning it away.

Image by jan mesaros from Pixabay

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with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the March Slice of Life Story Challenge